All That's Left of Me
by DenyingTheTruth
Summary: Chelsea nearly ruins her chances early in her career by turning to drugs and a bad influence. Over a year later, she returns to the WWE after completing rehab, finding a lot has changed since she left. Still broken, she throws herself into her work to re-solidify her career, leaving no room for anything else. But sometimes, things don't always work the way we plan. OC/Jeff/Reigns.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Here is another publication from me. I have written so much about things that have happened in the past that I thought it was about time to write about things that are happening right now. So, here's my attempt at an OC/Shield fanfic.**

**Disclaimer: I only own my character, Chelsea. I do not own and am not affiliated with WWE in any way. All of this is spurting from my fucky mind. Additionally, this is rated as such for drug use, violence, smut, and language. Reader beware!**

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_**Prologue: Two Years Ago**_

_The young woman knelt next to the coffee table, which had marks and scratches branding the once perfectly smooth exterior. The hotel room wasn't much better; and in fact, neither was she. She'd become just as damaged as that table. Her skin was now sullen, her muscle losing the tone she'd had. Any time she took a spill, a bruise would form quickly. She had bruises around her waist where the man had pulled her into him, leaving marks on the insides of her thighs and scratches across her lower back._

_She watched pensively as the purple-haired man across from her quickly snort his line of perfect white powder, tilting his head back as his eyes watered._

_"Come on, Chels, do your line. We gotta get out of here soon, otherwise people are going to suspect shit."_

_Chelsea quickly finished her own, falling backwards against the stained hotel couch. Her frail, nude body shivered, not only from the cold but the sudden rush she'd gotten. _

_"Jeff," she murmured, grabbing on to the drink she'd made earlier. _

_This wasn't anything new to either of them; drink a terrible rum and Coke, do some lines, have sex, maybe smoke some pot. She liked it when he'd give her his prescription Adderall, which riled her up greatly in the ring. He claimed it made him into a zombie, but it made her feel like Wonder Woman._

_The man had only given her heroin only once, but she knew better than to continue with that. Her best friend from high school was seriously hooked on it now, and would do anything to keep using. She'd even lost her daughter to the state because of it. It was a vicious cycle between the two of them, and a painful one. This had been going on between the two of them for a while now._

_But Chelsea also knew that this was where their relationship started and ended. Jeff used her for her body when his girlfriend was at their home in North Carolina, and she was sadly hooked on everything about this man._

_"I love you," she verbalized her thought, and he just shrugged. This further proved the point, and as numb as she felt right now, she still had that jabbing heartache. She had professed her undying love to him before, and he'd never given her the response she so desperately searched for. She hated herself for wishing things would be different and for waiting around for things to change. She knew deep down they probably never would. _

_Jeff stood up abruptly, and took her drink from her. He extended one hand to her, and she shakily gained strength to stand. _

_"If we don't get back to the show now, they're going to realize we're gone," he repeated. He pulled in Chelsea for a gentle kiss, which only re-ignited the flame she'd already had for him. She felt the heartache all over again. He was the biggest asshole in the world to her, but there was a piece of him that was sweet and gentle. When she thought there was no hope, he pulled that shit._

_Chelsea fumbled as she began pulling a gray thermal hoodie over her messy dyed- black hair. She giggled as she stumbled trying to put her thong and jeans on again._

_She didn't bother glancing at herself in the mirror. She probably looked just as fucked up as she felt._

_She trailed Jeff as he rounded the corner back to the arena. She'd already wrestled that evening, getting shit-stomped by the Glamazon, Beth Phoenix. She was glad she'd wrestled that one mostly sober, and was proud of her performance. She only had a tiny bit of what she called Magic Juice, which was just a bunch of alcohol mixed together in her small silver flask. Jeff wasn't so lucky, and would be facing Christian in just under an hour from now._

_She had a definite love/hate relationship with the purple-haired highflying star. He'd offered her cocaine for the first time after she'd pulled something in her elbow, inactivating her from wrestling for three weeks. She was really down that night, and sat at the hotel bar alone, taking shots of whiskey._

_She fell hard and fast, and got to know the man quickly. Sometimes it was the alcohol talking, and sometimes it was really him. But their relationship turned physical quickly with the amount of inebriation, and she let herself keep getting sucked in further and further. There was something about Jeff Hardy that kept bringing her back, even if she didn't really want to. She'd stopped hanging out with some of the other women on the roster, letting her close friendship with Natalie crumble. Even though they'd trained together, Natalie no longer spoke to the raven-haired woman. Who could blame her? Chelsea wasn't the same as she used to be. She didn't have the same life in her that she used to._

_It didn't matter. She had Jeff._

_A Few Months Later_

_"Chelsea, we're only doing this because we care about you," Stephanie McMahon sat across from the black-haired beauty. Chelsea wiped a tear from her eye, her perfect makeup now certainly ruined._

_She glanced around the room, her red, watering eyes landing on a photograph of the billionaire's daughters. They all looked just like their mother. They were all beautiful, without a care in the world. _

_She was like that once. She was innocent, way back when. She'd worked so hard to become a diamond in the rough. She'd began her career as a model, but became bored of that quickly. She'd done most of her shoots for clothing stores such as Hot Topic. After deciding that she wanted to get a little more serious about her life, she'd turned her then 18-year-old dreams into reality, taking the money from modeling and beginning school with the Hart family, training in the ring. She'd never worked so hard in her life to go on to the NXT and, shortly after, had been added to the main roster. But all of those dreams were gone now._

_"Once we found out about Jeff Hardy's drug abuse, we had to start testing randomly. You didn't pass." The older woman continued._

_"I know, Stephanie, I know," sobbed Chelsea. "But I want to change."_

_"I want to help you. You've barely made a dent in your career. We really enjoy your performances. That's why we're going to help you with going to Forward Progress—that's one of the greatest rehabilitation centers. My dad did Mr. William Regal this favor once. He improved immensely. Please, don't disappoint me. I have faith in you, just like he did in William. When you complete the six month course, we'd like for you to start training again."_

_Chelsea sobbed again, thanking the woman. She'd heard stories. Stephanie McMahon was a bitch, a liar, only looking out for herself and her family. _

_She owed Stephanie big time. _

_She left the boss's office, wiping mascara from her cheeks. She felt rage burrowing into her chest; bust mostly the black abyss known as hopelessness had replaced her soul. She dialed Jeff's number quickly on her cell phone, and he answered gruffly, as though she'd just woken him up._

_"Jeff, they let me go," the tears welled up in her eyes again. "They killed my dream!"_

_"Chelsea, knock it off. You knew what could happen," he responded, unsympathetic. Of course he was. He had no chance of coming back. This wasn't his first offense._

_"I didn't expect to get caught!" she yelled into the mouthpiece, frantic._

_The man chuckled on the other end._

_"Listen, Chelsea. Don't call me anymore. You knew what could happen. You knew where our relationship stood. And now I'm reminding you. I'm going to clean up my act, and you should, too. I've decided to ask Beth to marry me. She makes me happy. You bring me down. You only bring me down. So let's cut the shit, and be honest here. This is the end of anything we had, or what you thought we had."_

_Chelsea heard the click of the phone, her stomach dropping. No, wait—she was dropping. To her knees. She wept, throwing her phone and shattering it against the brick wall. Fleeting thoughts of slitting her wrists or drowning herself in her hotel room went through her mind. But she knew that death wasn't the way that she'd get revenge on the man who had tore her into pieces._

_She silently vowed that she'd prove Jeff wrong. She never brought him down! Not once! It was he who had ruined her life. He who introduced the wonderful world of drugs. Jeff was the one who broke her heart. Just like a drug, he built her up so tall and strong, that it was only a matter of time before something so simple could knock her over. _

_She hoped that Jeff would live with that guilt on his mind. That while he was sleeping with his soon-to-be wife, he saw Chelsea's face. Felt Chelsea's arms around his neck. Heard her call his name. _

_She also vowed that she would never, ever fall back into his trap again. She'd be happy. One day._

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**A/N: Okay, I gotta know, what do you think? I plan on adding the first chapter later tonight. I think this one is worth pursuing.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you for all the favorites! I meant to write the first chapter last night, but I guess I wanted to see how the prologue went over, first. Here's chapter one.**

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Stepping out of the bright yellow taxicab, Chelsea tilted her face towards the arena. She noted how many people were already bustling around, even though the show wouldn't start for nearly eight more hours. She squinted through her white cheap-o plastic sunglasses, trying to spot anyone that she recognized.

Already, the city center intimidated her. She willed her heart rate to slow down a little bit and began walking forward, pulling her luggage bag along. She was nervous to meet again with Stephanie McMahon. They'd spoken on the phone, and that went well. Stephanie was happy to hear Chelsea had completed her classes with flying colors, and told her she'd fly her across the country to the show in Tampa Bay that evening.

"Well, look who we have here!" Chelsea whipped around, nearly knocking herself off-balance. Nikki Bella grinned at her, perfect white teeth gleaming. Chelsea was glad she still had her sunglasses on; to face those teeth, she'd need them. Nikki gave her a quick, awkward side-hug, still smiling. She wore athletic shorts and a John Cena "Hustle, Loyalty, Respect" t-shirt.

What the fuck? The Nikki Bella that Chelsea remembered didn't get herself twisted with wrestlers. And, if she remembered correctly, the diva had rolled her eyes at John Cena in the past...what the hell? The twin's new found love for arrogant John Cena was new. So were the giant tits.

"Nice, Nik. Your boobs grew a few sizes."

Nikki puffed out her chest. "Thanks! I love them. You look a hundred times better than when I saw you last." She nodded towards the water bottle in Chelsea's other hand. "That better really be water and not vodka," she said, a concerned look crossing her face.

"It's definitely water. Trust me, you'd know if it wasn't." Chelsea couldn't help but feel embarrassed by her old friend's comment. Everyone knew she had a problem last year, but nobody really called her out on it. In fact, most of her old friends pretended that they didn't know a thing, even though soon enough, it was common knowledge.

The pair began walking towards the entrance, and Nikki chattered about her relationship with John, some new show they were doing, and her run for the championship belt.

"Well, if it isn't Wednesday Addams herself!" another voice said, causing the women to turn. Both had huge grins now. Brie came bounding towards them, her hair in braids and wearing a long, flowy skirt and revealing white tank top. She looked beautiful.

"Brie," responded Chelsea, giving her other friend a hug. She couldn't help but chuckle at her old nickname. When she'd first started, the beautiful blonde bombshell Maryse began calling her Wednesday, a reference to the Addams family, as a personal shot to her somewhat Gothic appearance. Maryse was her pro during NXT, and although at the time, the women could not stand each other, they ended up very respectable towards one another. They were definitely not the best of friends; in fact, they were polar opposites. But when it came to in the ring, they both left their feelings in the locker room. Last she knew, Maryse was awaiting the arrival of her first born baby.

"You look great," Brie said, pulling Chelsea's still dyed black hair. Now, it had teal dye at the bottom, giving it a weird ombre effect.

"A little less Addams family, a little more Malibu Barbie," Nikki commented, comparing her tan to Chelsea's. Chelsea snorted, grabbing her arm away. She did finally catch a little color during her stay at Straight Forward, which was in sunny California.

"You and I both know that that's a long shot," Chelsea said, shaking her head.

"But for real, Chels, you look good," Brie said again. Chelsea thanked her friends. She had put on about twenty pounds of toned muscle, which was a huge upgrade from the bag of bones she was when she'd started rehab. In fact, at her initial weigh-in, she'd only clocked in at 103 pounds. Her once brittle hair now had a keen shine to it, which (almost) made it look natural. Her skin was radiant, no longer full of pock-marks and blackheads. Her bright blue eyes had color again, the life they used to have in them dancing wildly. Chelsea no longer had the walking dead girl appearance that made her both famous and infamous. She really started to take care of herself, a trait she'd picked up from her roommate in rehab. Straight Forward housed tons of upper class people, including politicians, celebrities, and even lawyers. Chelsea found herself sharing a beautiful ocean view room with a young, talented musician that went by the name of Lennon. They got along immediately; and although Lennon wasn't a big hit on the music scene yet, she knew her stuff. She knew the ropes through the industry. Specifically, she knew that the better you looked, the further you went.

It wasn't purely superficial, of course; but Chelsea learned quickly that it had its upper hand. She began to work hard on herself, both the inside and outside. She never wanted to be like Maryse except for in-ring; she just wanted to be herself. But she also knew a cokehead hot mess like herself wasn't going to gain the support she needed to go forward. Lennon agreed, showing her the right way to contour and highlight her cheekbones, and even holding her feet down while she did hundreds of sit-ups a day.

"So, where's Nat?" Chelsea found herself asking about her oldest friend at the WWE, the woman who had trained hard with her in the ring prior to WWE. Sometime during all the conversation, they had made their way to the arena, where a hundred people frantically tried to set up the ring, pyro, and cameras.

She'd heard that Natalie had finally gotten married to TJ, which was great. She was slightly saddened that she didn't get an invite to the wedding; though she supposed that she wouldn't have been allowed to go under the strict supervision of the rehabilitation center.

The Bella twins glanced sideways at each other, and Nikki sucked in a breath.

"She's around here, somewhere," she started. "But Chels, she might need a little more time…"

Brie nodded, confirming her sister's words. "She's not too happy about how things between you two went down…"

"No, she isn't." Natalie Niedhart interrupted, then joined the trio, looking amazing as always. But she had a dark scowl, leering at Chelsea as she sized her up.

"Ladies, we're supposed to be doing a promo with Eva Marie in ten minutes. Let me handle this," Natalie clearly dismissed the twins, who waved to Chelsea and left in a flash.

"Nattie, I wanted to say that I'm so—"

"Save it. You're not sorry! Not only did you almost kill yourself and ruin your life, you made the entire Hart foundation look bad! We trained you, we supported you, and I loved you like you were my sister!" Natalie's face was now stained with red, her tone beyond pissed. If she had claws, they'd be out now, getting ready to dig into Chelsea's face.

"But I am sorry," Chelsea said quietly. "This meant everything to me."

Natalie guffawed. "Did it? Or did getting high with that loser Jeff mean more? Because personally, I think it's the latter."

Chelsea felt a pang of sorrow at the mention of Jeff's name. She'd done so well trying to erase that part of her life, she thought she'd be better prepared for just the mere mention of him than she actually was. Natalie must've noticed the pain in Chelsea's eyes, because she laughed a truly bitchy laugh, shaking her head.

"You haven't changed at all," she said, stalking away from her former friend. "If I were you, I would stay far away."

Chelsea watched Natalie leave up the ramp, who never even glanced back. She felt terrible. She didn't exactly understand the diva's motivation for her direct hate. Sure, they had grown close, and they'd grown apart at the hands of Jeff Hardy and his magic white powder. But she didn't understand why that meant they couldn't patch things up.

"Ooh, you're in trouble now," a petite, dark-haired girl was seated in the front row of the arena, not looking up from her cell phone. She had the Divas championship belt on the chair next to her. Her feet were up on the banister: a pair of scuffed Converse.

Acknowledging the woman, Chelsea walked towards her and sunk down in the seat next to the belt.

"I guess I just don't know what everyone expects," she admitted, feeling strange that she was confiding in this person, even though they didn't know each other.

"Honestly? She's changed so much since that stupid show," the smaller woman looked up, eyes connecting with Chelsea's. She was pretty; very simple makeup behind dark glasses, with dark hair and soulful eyes. She couldn't help but take note of the glimmering engagement ring on her left hand.

"You're Chelsea," she smiled, extending a hand. "I've heard about you here and there. Not all good," she said pointedly.

As if Chelsea really needed to hear that.

"That's fantastic," Chelsea said, shaking her head. "I'm fucking trying. This company was my life!" she started to feel her blood boil, then put her feet up on the banister, too. She was beyond frustrated.

"Do or do not. There is no try," the other woman commented. "That's a direct quote from Yoda."

"Star Wars," laughed Chelsea. She felt a little better, having met this nerdy girl.

"We'll get along just fine. As for the Total Divas, I'd watch yourself. They think they have it all made. They kiss a lot of ass, get a lot of things handed to them—including matches. Some of us actually have to work for what we have," she tapped the championship belt next to her.

Chelsea nodded. She knew that the McMahons played favorites often; she supposed in a sense, she was even granted that immunity. After all, under Stephanie's rule, she was able to be here today. Jeff hadn't been so lucky.

"What in the world is Total Divas?" she asked.

"A ridiculous show following some of the girls. Just like Jersey Shore or the Surreal Life. I don't get it. I already put myself out there for the world to see. Why would I want them to see the deepest parts of my life? My fans should like me for my wrestling, not who I'm dating..._ahem, Nikki..._Some of us like privacy."

Chelsea couldn't believe her ears. The WWE had seriously enlisted divas in some damn reality TV show? She wondered if that was why Nikki was proudly wearing her John Cena shirt, in order to promote him. He needed all the support he could get, she remembered. His career was falling apart, and he was crashing from the top after a pretty gnarly injury. But this chick had had insinuated that Nikki wasn't only Cena's personal cheerleader...

"Yes, the Bellas are on it, too, special guest appearances by their wonderful boyfriends," the woman read Chelsea's mind.

"John Cena and Nikki?" she asked, trying to hide the disgust in her voice. "Isn't he married?"

Tossing her head back, her confidante laughed. "He was. I don't get it, either. Before the show, I didn't have any issues with the Bellas. Or Natalie, for that matter. But when I declined the invitation to join the show, they all had their sights set on destroying my career. I told them how I felt. I figured Cena was using the show to gain some hype. I always thought John Cena was a bit of a douchebag." she shrugged at the last comment.

_He was_, Chelsea thought to herself. _He probably still is._

"Oh, where are my manners. My name is April, but you can call me AJ."

"AJ," repeated Chelsea, 'Divas champion."

"Longest reigning, even beating your pro's record," she declared.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow. This AJ bitch really knew her wrestling.

"I was the NXT season right after you," she explained. "I watched everything and anything."

"So you know more about me than I want you to know," Chelsea sighed.

"Don't be down on yourself. Seriously, it isn't fair to judge someone based on what they used to do, or who they used to be friends with. For what it's worth, Jeff Hardy was an amazing wrestler."

Pain. AJ seemed to be immune to the hurt in Chelsea's eyes. Or maybe she ignored it. She was so glad to have met AJ, who really seemed like her head was screwed on the right way. The other girls, on the other hand...

"I like your tattoo," AJ turned Chelsea's wrist to show a red and white medical logo, the very same that appeared on Eminem's album, Recovery. That whole album was something that Chelsea looked up to. She'd gotten the tattoo to remind herself that even the best, like Eminem, can pull themselves up from the darkness and be the greatest at what they do.

"Thank you," she responded, not ready to explain it.

AJ gave her a warm smile, then her eyes quickly averted upwards. She rose to her feet, hand extended.

"Stephanie, glad to see you," the Divas champion shook her boss's hand. Chelsea rose to her feet, too, a phony smile plastered across her own face. Stephanie looked great as usual, her business suit crisp and her hair styled perfectly. Her lips were pursed; and she was a spitting image of her mother, Linda. It was hard not to feel intimidated by this woman.

"Stephanie," she said in a breath, her heart pounding again.

"Chelsea, glad you could make it. We need to chat."

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**A/N: Oh, man. Things sure do change in a year.  
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	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you again for all the favorites! Onward!**

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"I'm telling you, Roman. You need to take a chance," Dean Ambrose was alongside his friend and ring partner, Roman Reigns. He was trying to talk his friend into going out on a date with the beautiful Summer Rae.

Roman rolled his eyes. He had absolutely zero interest in the blonde. She was a sweetheart, sure. But when it came to things that they had in common? Nothing. Besides, he was interested in himself right now. If all went right, he would be winning next year's King of The Ring tournament. There was only room for Roman, and no room for a girl to distract him from his ultimate goal.

"Really, Dean, cut the shit," he responded. The two were at the training center, getting ready for the show that night in Tampa Bay. Roman stacked some free weights on his barbell, preparing himself to bench press more than he should have. He'd hurt his shoulder just a few weeks ago, but didn't admit that to anyone. He knew what injuries did to people: Destroyed them. John Cena finally fell off his high horse after hurting himself. Roman didn't want to make the same mistake. If anyone knew, the medical team would probably disqualify him from his matches for awhile.

"I'm just saying, Reigns. You're not getting any younger. Besides, the amount of single chicks is really diminishing around here," Dean stood over Roman as he began to bench press his weights, being his spotter. Seth Rollins was working alongside Luke Harper at the moment, who was an expert in military style work outs. Roman had to admit, the guy was excellent as far as training went. Though at the moment, he didn't hold a candle to the Shield's status, the Wyatt Family; and, more specifically, Harper, would be someone he'd have to watch out for.

Roman chuckled. It was true, he supposed. His cousin Jimmy had just married Naomi, and AJ Lee had announced her engagement to the former WWE star, CM Punk. People were getting married left and right, but for now, Roman was worried about himself. Nobody, not even the pretty blonde, could change that.

"What about you, Ambrose?" he shot back, finishing his first set of ten.

Dean thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "My heart is still in California," he commented. Roman rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand the bitch Dean was infatuated with. Her name was Marissa, and she thought she was an actress. In reality, she was an average looking girl who spent too much on getting her face altered, and had done maybe six commercials in her entire career. She was turned down over and over again for movies, modeling agencies, and reality television shows. When they'd done their show in Los Angeles, Roman had finally met Marissa, only confirming his suspicions that she was indeed a gold-digging hoe. She whined to get her way through the entire day, begged Dean to stay with her for an extra night, and made a show of carrying around her Coach purse. That was something Roman didn't understand. He had no idea how Dean managed to meet this girl, but there was no talking him out of her. He was infatuated.

Roman caught a glimpse of Stephanie walking by the pane glass window; following her, a woman with black and teal hair. He wondered who she was, but quickly wrote her off as a nobody. Stephanie didn't bring new divas or superstars in on the roster often. As a matter of fact, they had to earn their way to even so much as have a meeting with her.

Dean must have noticed Roman's initial gaze, and tisk-tisked his friend.

"That's Chelsea," he told his friend, but Roman had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

When Roman didn't respond, Dean continued. "The one that was too busy shooting up or whatever with Jeff Hardy to care about her job? Vince McMahon asked me this morning to train her. Or let her 'brush up,' as he put it. So I've seen the tapes of her. Not too bad in the ring. But personally, I don't think she's worth the risk."

Dean was starting to get under Roman's skin. Hadn't he just been lecturing him about taking a chance with Summer Rae? Maybe the WWE needed to take a chance on her, too. If she had a second chance with the McMahon family, she must have done something right.

"The divas could use some help right now," he spoke up. "Right now, it's all about that stupid show. Add in a little bit of AJ drama, and you have our entire divas division. You never know, bringing in Kelly Osbourne might be a step in the right direction."

This caused the shorter man to laugh. "No way, Roman. Do some research. This girl was hanging out at a motel down the road from the arena doing lines, almost causing little Hardy to miss his match! Even if she's straight and sober now, how long can that really last?"

But Roman had tuned his stable mate out, watching the petite woman stand outside of the room that was marked as an office. She had a whole different persona to her. First off, she definitely wasn't the druggie Dean staked her out to be. She was in impeccable physical condition, and she had some strange sort of allure to her. There were tons of blonde chicks that claimed to love wrestling in the WWE, a handful who actually could. Then, there were girls like the Bella Twins who were actually learning to wrestle, but were gaining popularity almost solely based off from a television show. This woman was a whole new breed of diva. She wore her black and teal hair down in curls, white sunglasses perched on her head. A tight black t-shirt clung to her frame, destroyed jeans clinging to her curves. She wore black flip-flops, her toenails painted a dark purple. Most people wore their Sunday's finest when they met with the McMahon family, but Chelsea…she just wore what she wanted.

"Ro, come on. I swear to you, she is not worth your time," Dean continued, averting his friend's attention once again.

Maybe Dean was right. Roman didn't exactly pick his women wisely; his last girlfriend lasted a few short months. She turned out to be insane, trying to plan their kids' names and bullshit.

It didn't matter anyways. He wanted to keep working hard to improve, and that meant spending more time training and less time trying to find the love of his life. He'd written off that possibility a long time ago, anyways. He'd learned early on that life on the road wasn't going to do him any favors in the relationship department. While his colleagues were here to hook up and do whatever they did, his goal never changed. And, as proven by John Cena, you couldn't have a great relationship and be the number one in the company at the same time. It just wasn't possible.

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"Chelsea, since we last spoke on the phone, I've gone through a lot of your paperwork," Stephanie was now digging through a file folder, pulling out random papers here and there.

Chelsea watched her boss, nervously inadvertently snapping her flip flop against the heel of her foot. Once she realized that she was probably being obnoxious, she stopped, hoping that Stephanie hadn't noticed. She had all the power right now; and could determine whether or not she even had a job anymore.

"Ah, there it is," Stephanie proclaimed, holding a document. "This is your contract. I had our lawyers look it over once again. We revised it a little bit. You are on a probationary period right now, subject to random drug tests. If you do not pass, we have the right to terminate you completely. Without pay. However, if you make it through this trial period, we would like to extend your contract for three years."

Chelsea could've leapt from her seat. "Where's the pen? I'll sign that right away!" she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

Stephanie held up a finger. "You should be aware, though, that during this six month trial, you are not eligible to challenge for the Divas championship belt. I trust you could use some brushing up in the ring, which is why I've paired you with an excellent technical wrestler. You will train with him until your heels crack and bleed, your hands blister, and your knees give out. Our divas division could use a little help right now. We want you to join an alliance against the Total Divas—that'll make sure that those ladies get the coverage they're looking for, too. I doubt that would be hard for you to do."

Chelsea considered that. No, it wouldn't be hard to be pissed at the Total Divas. She didn't know all the women who were involved, but she did know three of them. At least, she thought she knew three of them. Natalie and the Bellas had been rising from the ground around the same time as she had, and she couldn't believe that the three of them had thrown themselves wholeheartedly into something that was so unbelievably against what they'd originally stood for.

Chelsea respected AJ greatly for sticking to her guns. Yeah, she probably would've been a huge asset to the show. But who could blame the champion for wanting AJ Lee to be separate from April? Chelsea knew she would probably have done the same if she'd been given the opportunity; she didn't want her fans, if she had any, to see the fucked up, broken side of her.

"So, what exactly am I supposed to do?" Chelsea asked her boss, half-ass reading her contract.

"Well, what creative and myself believes is that you are going to play some heavy mind games with the women of Total Divas. We've been writing up ideas all week long. We think we're going to play some cruel, mean jokes on them… Just get inside their heads. It will be a whole shock to the world when you admit to have done these things. Eventually, we'd like it to be Total Divas versus Anti-Divas. For today, though, I am going to put you on the commentating team. Only reason is to promote your return. You weren't around enough for a lot of people to remember you, so we are going to make sure to have you hype yourself a little bit. And, when you finally are ready to get back in the ring, we want the wow factor."

"And who exactly is going to be my instructor?" Chelsea asked, looking up from the typed document. She didn't know a whole lot of people anymore, so she was certain it'd be someone she didn't know well. Or at all.

"Well, you probably haven't met him yet. I believe he's the best fit for you right now. Dean Ambrose of the Shield is going to be your mentor, Chelsea. I expect you to be ready to go for a quick lesson at four o'clock sharp. At five, you have a meeting with Michael Cole. Once he is finished getting your mic skills in check, report right back to me immediately." Stephanie handed Chelsea an immaculate black ballpoint pen, nonchalantly pointing to the line that she would be signing.

Quickly scribbling her name, the new diva looked up again at Stephanie McMahon. "I appreciate everything you've done for me," she admitted, handing the pen back. "I can never fully repay you, but I want you to know, I'm going to work hard to prove how much I appreciate a second chance."

Clapping the young woman on her shoulder, Stephanie beamed. "I know you won't disappoint me. Sometimes, we need someone to believe in us a little bit before we can fully believe in ourselves. Now, go on and get yourself dressed. You'll find an outfit that I've personally picked for you in the ladies locker room."

Chelsea thanked the billionaire once again, anxiously heading to see her assigned outfit. She had never done commentary before, so she knew she'd probably dress like a stiff in a suit. Even still, any good impression was still better than the one she'd left the company with. She hoped and prayed that the fans didn't really remember her. There was general disappointment amongst them after her departure; a lot of talk, and a lot of people who knew what the conditions of her leave of absence was really about. Now was the time to change that. Now was the time to—

"Whoa, hey there!" a tall man nearly collided with her, and she scolded herself for being too deep into her own thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I have a lot to get done in a short period of time," she told the guy. He had half black and half blonde hair, and was fairly good looking. She didn't recognize him, but he had a very laid back vibe to him.

"We all do. My name is Seth. You must be Chelsea."

Damn it, she was so far from anonymity around here! How did this guy know who she was?

"Yeah, that's me. Well, I need to get dressed and meet my trainer…" she started off on her way when he halted her.

"Your trainer is my good friend, Dean. Let me introduce you guys."

Go figure, this guy was best buds with the man that would be re-teaching her to do Natalie's sharpshooter. Fuck that.

"Nah, really. It's no big deal. Boss lady doesn't want me wearing this to the ring," she pointed to her drab outfit, silently wishing she had worn something a little bit better.

"You have half an hour before you guys have to get to training. That's plenty of time to put on some boots and a t-shirt."

With that, the man yanked Chelsea's elbow, urging her to follow him.

As they entered the catering room, her heavily made up eyes landed on who she presumed to be Dean. And by the way Seth was bounding towards him and another dude, her suspicions were confirmed.

"You," he said, his voice dripping with venom.

"And you," she responded coldly. Go fucking figure! "How's Marissa?"

Dean stood up, inches from the girl's face.

"Marissa is not your concern. Your concern is keeping your job here. So I suggest you shut up, find your ring gear, and meet me back here in ten minutes." Dean's voice had almost become a whisper now, and his eyes were flashing angrily. He meant business.

* * *

**Uhoh! Chelsea's trainer hates her guts. But why? And what's her connection to Marissa? And why didn't Dean realize who she was a little bit earlier? Questions, questions, everywhere.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you again for all the favorites! I enjoy writing about Chelsea's past a lot, so I'm going to sneak some more in here and there. I should note, this chapter and story in general isn't very nice to Jeff Hardy.**

* * *

_**Flashback:**_

_The woman untangled herself from the man's body, trying to catch her breath. She didn't really remember much of what happened last night, but they were both naked. The man groaned as she moved, so she did so as gently as possible. She carefully swung her feet over the bed, tossing back the sludge that was left in the glass from last night. The familiar, bitter taste of rum greeted her lips._

_Stumbling towards the bathroom door, she caught a glimpse of his phone. It was blinking, a surefire sign that he had a few text messages. Curiosity peaked, and she swiped the screen. Sure as shit, there was the text message._

"_I love and miss you, Jeffy! Happy anniversary, call me soon. XOXO" _

_She felt red hot anger sear through her, and even in her drunken state, fury began to rise straight from her toes. It's not like she didn't know he had someone. Of course she did. But the fact that he was always using her, always keeping her along for the ride…that was the worst. She hated how he claimed to be devoted to his girlfriend, but still used her as a bedmate most nights. And now...it was their anniversary.  
_

"_Fuck you think you're doing?" The man was standing behind her now, startling her. She'd never heard him get out of bed. His hair was a sweaty mess, he needed to shower and shave, and his skin was just as bruised as hers was. But yet, she still was hopelessly in love with him._

"_It was going off—I didn't know—" but he was in her face now, and his breath hot on her lips. He smelled like an odd mixture of stale cigarettes, coffee, and cheap dark rum. She knew she was caught and that there was nothing she could say to him. She prepared for consequences.  
_

"_I don't know who the hell you think you are. But you are not her."_

_While she wasn't sure what he meant by that, it still stung. He rounded around her, cornering her further and further into the sleazy motel bathroom._

_Once again, they'd snuck away from their colleagues and friends the night before. If anyone noticed, nobody had said so. It was becoming their own tradition of sorts. It was risky, getting their own place while they were supposed to be with the rest of the roster. But how else could they do what they wanted undetected? The man's older brother suspected he was up to something already.  
_

"_You get that? You are not her. You're a great fuck. But all you are is a fuck." The man was tripping over his own words, than actually tripping over his feet, colliding with her. "A dirty, pretty little fuck," he mumbled, yanking her dark hair so they were even closer. Their lips met, and the next thing she knew, the purple-haired man bent her over the sink, driving his full length into her already sore, unprepared folds. She screamed in agony as he pounded against her flesh, digging his nails into her bare bottom. She absentmindedly worried that he'd drawn blood. He made an incoherent noise as he came into her. He whipped her around, and punched her square in the jaw._

_She fell backwards, her head hitting the sink._

_She began fading out, wondering how could still love the man that was towering over her naked body, urging her to wake up.  
_

_But the sad truth was, she did._

* * *

"Chelsea, you can't be afraid of getting hit," Dean was working with her in the ring now, and she'd flinched every time he'd gotten near her face.

"Why not? I'm sure it'd feel great for you," she countered, a little bit of sass back to her trainer.

She quickly jolted back up from the ring post, hands clenched into fists. She couldn't help but feel like Dean was being a little rough on her. After all, he wasn't her biggest fan.

"Focus," he yelled to her through gritted teeth. "Now, when I take a swing, you need to avert, go under, and reverse grapple."

Chelsea wasn't sure why she was doing so poorly tonight. She'd watched hundreds of videos on YouTube regarding agility training once she'd gotten her computer privileges back at Straight Forward. Lennon had assisted her in taping her wrists when she'd tried boxing for the first time. She knew that where she needed to improve the most was fluency and quickness, but how badly those things needed to improve didn't come to a head until today.

This time, though, she landed the counter that he'd instructed her. She added her own twist to it, a sudden burst of energy coursing through her. It was exactly what she'd wished she had done to Jeff Hardy all the times he'd gotten too physical with her. She twisted his arm back, and pushed his rear with the sole of her foot, causing him to nearly lose balance.

Dean caught himself, turning to give the woman another angry glare. She winked at him, hoping he would stop being such a douche to her.

Seth, who was at ringside, clapped at her performance. "Finally! Someone putting Ambrose in his place!"

Dean muttered that the session would be over for the evening, and Chelsea gave him a huge hug, hoping he felt completely awkward.

_Good. He deserved to, just like she had!_

On a tight schedule, she headed back to put on the outfit Stephanie had chosen for her, which she hadn't even seen yet.

Yay.

* * *

Roman Reigns just couldn't get this weird girl off from his mind. She hadn't even noticed his existence upon meeting Dean, which was strange in itself. He towered over most; a serious, dark look always taking over his features. But she either didn't acknowledge that he was there, didn't really care, or pretended not to. He'd hoped to catch her eye at least once. He was a true believer that eyes told a lot about a person. He couldn't make heads or tails in his book yet. She was far from any of the other women on the roster, marching to her own drum. Shit, anyone who met with Stephanie McMahon wearing torn jeans and lived was cool in his book. Not to mention, Seth had told him all about her maneuver in-ring after Dean had called her out on being a wuss, and Roman wished he'd tagged along to see.

Pulling on his black ring attire, he awaited the arrival of the other two stooges. Or maybe catch another glimpse of Chelsea.

And, just like clockwork, the woman that had captured his attention was heading past him. She now wore crisp, dark washed jeans, bright pink stilettos, a leopard print shirt, and a nicely fitted black jacket. Her hair was down, still in springy curls, but a pink bow was secured on the side. She was even prettier up close.

"Hey!" she said to him, recognizing him. "Have you seen Michael Cole around?"

Roman realized that she actually hadn't recognized him at all. She had no idea who he was.

"Should be in the Sound room," he replied, coming off as more of a dick than he'd wanted to.

Chelsea pursed her lips, furrowing her brow. Roman took note of the extensive amount of black crap she used on her eyes. She pulled it off, no doubt. But those eyes didn't need all that to highlight them. Or mask them?

"Great. And where exactly is that?" she mimicked his tone, making him chuckle.

"Come on, I'll show you."

* * *

"Here on commentary tonight, we have Chelsea Sweetly, coming back from the abyss," JBL said to the WWE Universe. "Chelsea, it's been what, a year now? What brings you around these parts again?"

Chelsea looked down at her script, knowing that she had a second to glance it over again before the camera panned to her. "Well, Bradshaw, as you know, our divas division has been taken over by a reality TV show. I didn't believe it myself at first, so I dropped by to see it…and it's sadly true. Where are the real women wrestlers these days?"

"Well, Chelsea, we are glad to have you back. You look great, and we hope to see you in the ring again soon."

"I hope to be in the ring, too. I'd like everyone to remember what the ladies of the WWE could do back in the day."

Michael Cole broke in, talking about the next match a singles match involving the woman Chelsea had met earlier, AJ Lee. The crowd roared for her, and Chelsea found herself clapping, too. A bigger, meaner looking woman, who was announced to be Tamina Snuka, trailed AJ.

"You're an AJ fan, Chelsea?" Michael Cole was ad-libbing now, and she responded with ease.

"She's one of the few who actually seem to have her head on straight. And actually used her talent to gain that belt."

Her opponent was Naomi, who Chelsea learned was on that television show, too. She was very impressive in the ring, but wasn't as well liked as the champion.

The entire night, Chelsea really enjoyed herself between the two regular commentators. She'd learned a lot about her peers, which now made clear sense as to why Stephanie had her team up with these guys. So much had changed, and so many people she hadn't known or met yet were headlining now. It was the perfect way to get her to understand the direction of the company and learn who she would be dealing with.

One of the final matches of the evening included The Shield, which was seemingly led by Dean. God, he made her skin crawl. Seth looked much more fierce, but the biggest one, Roman, was ridiculously breathtaking. He was a handsome guy, but not only was he far superior to anyone else he was fighting; he about outshone his own team members. Chelsea never realized that he was the third member of the stable, and she felt a little embarrassed. The whole way to the Sound room, they'd talked about her. Where she was from, how hard she'd been training for her return, and even that there were many who were less than excited about her being there. She supposed that Roman Reigns didn't offer any information about himself anyways, which was fine...

The Shield were the victors, and after being declared so, Chelsea caught Roman's eye. His dark eyes pierced her blues, an icy stare between the two. Though it was only a second's worth, Chelsea could almost hear her own heart thumping in her chest.

_Knock it off, stupid. You're here for one thing! Your job!_

After the show ended, Chelsea breathed a sigh of relief. She'd nailed it, even JBL had told her so. And heaven knew he didn't normally compliment anyone.

Making her way backstage, she was looking forward to finally relaxing. She'd picked up a new book late last week, but hadn't had the time to get into it. Nerd for sure, but she really wanted to be by herself.

"Chelsea Sweetly, huh?" AJ Lee appeared alongside her, still in her jean shorts, Love Bites t-shirt, and lace-up Chuck Taylor Converse.

Chelsea nodded, turning towards the woman who was the closest thing she had right now to a friend.

"Yeah. It's not what I would've picked...actually, Natalie did. She thought it was funny and cute, since I used to be so approachable looking. People used to be a little bit afraid of me, just because I like black."

AJ looked over thoughtfully. "You did look a lot more bad-ass when you started. With the eyebrow piercing and all."

Actually, the rehabilitation center asked her to take out all seven of her piercings. She'd ended up letting most of them close up, and secretly enjoyed how different and softer she'd looked without them.

"If you need a ride to the hotel, I can hurry it on up. Tamina and I are going to be driving together, but you're more than welcome to come along," AJ changed the subject quickly, and Chelsea hastily agreed. She kind of expected she'd end up walking, or if it was too far, calling for a cab.

But, Chelsea was glad for how smoothly most the day had gone. Some nicks and shoves along the way, including having Dean as her trainer. Another serious downer was the way Natalie had put her in her place, solidifying that once again, the Hart Foundation's finest was through with her.

Regardless, she'd met AJ, so at least she wasn't completely alone.

Even if she probably deserved to be.

* * *

**R/R! Much more fun to come.**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am setting this fic in February 2014, just so everyone knows. I may modify Chapter 1 so it's more apparent. Okay, so what did ya'll think about Wrestlemania?! Was it not a huge blowout for The Shield/Authority loyals? WTF! I loved it, but was not expecting such an asswhooping. Sincerely sad that CM Punk was a no show, thrilled that AJ Lee won (crafty bitch, but I still like her.) Yes, I know she loses to Paige…whatever, she's cool too. Anyways, I could ramble on, but let's get on with this fic.**

* * *

_"You really are pretty," he told her, his hands running down her sides. "But you're not mine." The two were in the shower, their naked bodies intertwined while the water sprayed down on them. He had just told her that they would never be together again. He was feeling badly about cheating on his girlfriend again, always battling with himself over what he should be doing versus what he was actually doing. This time, at least, he'd said it more nicely, and promised her one more night. But when he got like he was now, Chelsea held on to her hope. He could be the nicest, caring person she'd ever met. But he was also the same monster that lied to the medical trainer about why she needed stitches in the back of her head after smashing it on the sink._

_Besides, he always said it was the "last night."_

"_But I can be," she responded, tears in her eyes. _

_The man shook his head, his purple hair swinging water. "You deserve someone better," he responded. _

_Chelsea went to wipe her eyes, her hands stained with her black eye makeup. She probably looked like a drowned raccoon by now, what with the amount of mascara and eyeliner she used._

"_But I want you, Jeff." She looked up at him, but it wasn't Jeff who was standing before her anymore._

"_You deserve someone like me," Roman Reigns said, his skin glistening with droplets. He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear, than bent down to her height to kiss her._

* * *

Chelsea woke up in a bang. Had she really just almost had a sex dream about one of the guys she'd just met? That was seriously fucked up. She knew that he was completely out of her league, anyways. She had an awful lot to prove as far as wrestling went. She hadn't ever held the gold; she barely got her foot in the door with the company. And now, she had to make up for all of her past bullshit. So, her love life? That'd have to wait.

There was a cough, and she turned to the other twin bed. AJ was stirring, a comic book still open and draped next to her in the bed. The champion had both invited and nearly begged her to stay with her in the hotel. It was alright, though, because even though Chelsea planned on gunning it alone, having someone as chill as AJ around actually helped. Neither of them were the gossipy types, and they certainly didn't sit in the room together brushing each other's hair.

They had talked, though. AJ remembered Chelsea pretty well in the ring, and knew that her finishing move was a bulldog off from the ropes, which was called Sweet Face.

Chelsea was embarrassed to admit she didn't know much about the smaller woman, but AJ had no problem talking about herself. They'd talked about Total Divas, and how it was ruining women's wrestling. They talked about Natalie, and while AJ respected the woman, she felt that she became a whiney, snotty witch once the show's success became apparent. Their conversation ended when AJ left the room to take a call from her fiancé, and Chelsea had fallen asleep reading _Divergent._

"Good morning, Chelsea Sweetly," AJ teased, stretching her arms over her head. "Sweet dreams?"

"Weird ones," she responded, still puzzled about what was going on in her head.

"Anything interesting?"

Chelsea thought for a moment, but wasn't ready to admit she'd dreamed about the Shield's powerhouse star.

"I dream about Jeff Hardy all the time still," she told her, sitting up in bed and putting on her nerdy glasses. "I tell myself that I'm over his bullshit, and over him. Because I have to be. But then, when I go to bed, he still haunts me. I just want him to go away forever."

AJ looked thoughtful. It was common knowledge by now that Chelsea and Jeff Hardy were drug buddies, and that in a sense, he'd taken a huge toll on her career.

"I didn't know you dated Jeff," she said. Chelsea's jaw almost dropped. Was AJ in the dark about her past?

"I mean, I know you were released for drug use. I know you were given another chance because you've stayed sober and out of trouble. But it didn't make any sense until you brought up Jeff."

Okay, so she did know.

"What do you mean?" she asked, a quizzical expression crossing her features as she knitted her eyebrows.

"Well, you were doing really, really well. Even your last couple matches that I can remember looked good, and I'm sure you were using then…so it was kind of a shock that you were released while you had barely grazed the middle of the mountain. But if you were dating Jeff at the lowest point in _his_ life during one of the best in yours, it makes all the sense in the world. He turned you to the drugs because he needed someone in his life. Nobody wanted anything to do with him. Then you come along, and he likes you, but he likes his high, too."

"Jeff and I…our relationship was confusing," she said. "We definitely weren't dating. Sometimes I wished we would have. Actually, I still wish we had. Because the way he used me really fucked up and skewed my perception on dating in general." It kind of felt good to talk about this to a fresh face who didn't wield any opinions. She'd talked to Lennon about all of this for months, not to mention her therapist. But Lennon never had much to offer as far as Jeff went, and therapists always wanted their patient to figure their own shit out.

But AJ did have a point. Jeff had obviously liked something about her. He wouldn't have kept her around for as long as he had if he didn't; it would've been a one and done deal. But it dragged on for months. Who would've thought that the other diva knew what she was talking about?

Chelsea finally got up from the bed, her black sleep shorts riding a little high. She'd tossed on a black long-sleeved shirt last night too, with her self-cut thumbholes and all. She was not a fan of the big, fluffy mess that was curled black and teal hair last night. Today, it just looked gross.

But, she had to meet Dean again for training, so she figured she'd wait for a shower until afterwards. She threw her rat's nest into a messy top-bun and figured it'd be good enough for her jedi master. This session was barely a floorboard in the floor to the next few days that she'd be having. Her whole entire week was scheduled with new promos, a couple interviews, and a shooting for her own entrance. She was thrilled that Stephanie had given her the power to choose her own music—with her final approval. She also would be commentating again for Smackdown's show.

When Stephanie had handed her the itinerary for the week when they'd reached the hotel lobby last night, she gave her a wink. Without any words, though, Chelsea knew she had the boss's gratitude for working as hard as she had that day.

Regardless, as busy as it looked, it still wasn't nearly as crazy as AJ's schedule. All that, and last night she was chattering about going to Chicago for a night after Smackdown's taping.

"Sometimes, I wonder how much of this is going to be worth it," she'd muttered after receiving her own schedule.

If Stephanie heard her, she didn't acknowledge it.

"Getting ready?" AJ was texting on her damn phone again.

Chelsea nodded, trying to pull something out of her duffel that would actually resemble work out clothes. A few black sweaters, a couple hoodies, and a pair of ripped jeans later, and she brought up a pair of yoga leggings and a lime green FILA tank top. Good enough.

Of course, she was not about to let the world see her without makeup, even if it melted off during training. She didn't overdo it, but made sure to blacken her eyes like she always did.

"What's with the black?" AJ asked, going through one of her own bags. She was pulling every color Converse from it imaginable, finally settling for a pair of orange low-tops.

"I like black," Chelsea answered. "Just as dark as my soul," she whispered demonically, causing both women to giggle.

"Good luck today," AJ told her, "And since you're not, I'm jumping in the shower. See you when we get back, we've got a little traveling to do tomorrow…so don't stay out too late!"

"Yes, Ma," Chelsea shook her head. She was still happy that they got along as well as they did. It almost made the fact that she'd lost Natalie's friendship for good feel like a minor setback.

Almost.

* * *

"I want to teach you a new finisher," Dean was saying. Since their training yesterday, he was slightly less douchey, but still had it out for the woman.

"What's wrong with Sweet Face?" Chelsea asked. That finisher was her baby, one-hundred percent perfected.

"Nothing, but why not have a submission move, too?"

"I'm not a submissive person," she quirked an eyebrow, hoping to make Dean uncomfortable. It worked, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I think it'd be beneficial to learn and use more of them. You aren't a high flyer or anything like that. You're lacking on transition. This will help, I can guarantee it."

Chelsea was frustrated now, hearing her faults. Yeah, she was rusty. But she wasn't BAD.

Regardless, he taught her an interesting modified sleeper hold, which he'd claimed to have designed specifically for her and her strengths. ("Your reversal yesterday made me think that you could pull something like this off," he'd said, still clearly butthurt over the foot in mouth moment she'd provided him). They'd decided on calling it Sweet Dreams, which Chelsea immediately thought of her almost-dirty dream with his ring partner.

They'd also worked on speed training—she was instructed to dodge every punch Dean threw at her. But again, she was flinching.

"Don't be afraid of me, Chelsea. Be afraid of failure," Dean said, throwing a fist that whizzed past her left ear.

"But for real, be afraid of him, because he is a failure," Roman and Seth were making their way to the mini-ring, both clad in gray sweatpants and black t-shirts. Seth had been the one speaking, a huge grin across his face.

Chelsea smirked as she saw the two. Now she was nervous, as two extra pairs of eyes were watching her.

"Oh, fuck off, Seth," Dean rolled his eyes at his friend. "I don't see you re-training anyone."

"Well shit, then. Let's see something," he continued, egging on Dean.

They did some more speed training, then continued on, going through falling and selling the move. Chelsea had even went ahead and let him do a DDT to get the landing right.

The hard work, she had to say, really felt good. She was slowly starting to feel like her old self again, the one that existed before Jeff had taken away what was left of her. It was time to build herself back up, and this was a great way to start.

* * *

Roman watched Chelsea take all sorts of bumps from Dean. He was amazed that she didn't rattle easily as one of the greatest technical stars of the time tossed her around. She was still flinching at his punches, even though she shouldn't—Dean was super accurate and knew where to throw them, but would never actually land one. When he'd performed a simple DDT, he did notice her wince a little bit. It looked like she'd taken the fall a little hard, but it was a really basic move, and one that just couldn't be botched.

He also saw her tank ride up, showing off a really nice, toned stomach. He'd pretended not to care, but she had just the right amount on her. Then, he'd also noticed she'd had a four inch scar running from the bottom of her ribcage towards her bellybutton. She pulled her tank top down immediately, probably self-consciously.

_It looks like a stab wound_, Roman thought. Probably some sort of surgery. He'd wanted to ask, but the time wasn't right, and it really was none of his business. Though he wouldn't expect them to ever cross paths either romantically or as good friends, he made a mental note that if they did, he'd ask about it. That, and the really bad ass tattoo she had spreading across her shoulders and starting down her left arm. Normally, he wasn't one for such a rough, rugged look on women, but good Lord, Chelsea had caught his attention.

The two finished up in the ring, both of them covered in sweat. Chelsea took a drink of water and checked the time. Thanking Dean, she said goodbye to the Shield members and practically ran out of the training ring like she had somewhere better to be.

_She probably did_, Roman figured. But there was nowhere he'd rather be right now.

* * *

**I just finished the outline for this at work today, so I'm sooo excited to write the next chapter. I expect that one will come up and about soon. Please, do R/R! I love hearing from ya'll.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Yep, this is my favorite chapter to date. Thank you for the reviews, the favorites, everything. Motivation! And to answer the question, Chelsea is based on a person I know, minus the drug habit, and certainly she isn't based on me. Still, her bad-ass character is fun to write.  
**

* * *

Chelsea was anxious to peel off her sweaty clothes and get dressed in something a little bit nicer. Her next stop was with the computers and technology team, where they'd run through some ideas to shoot her entrance videos. She wondered what they'd use, since she didn't really have much to go off from. Many divas had super hot photos of their modeling stuck up on there if they didn't have any action shots. Since didn't have that, either, the whole thing was kind of in limbo.

Unlocking the door, she caught a glimpse of AJ's dark hair, crouched next to the bed.

"AJ? What are you doing? Don't you have to be at an autograph session or something?"

But AJ just looked up at her, tears falling plainly down her cheeks. She was fully dressed, with a stack of papers at her feet, which were still clad in her orange Converse.

"Oh, AJ, what's wrong?" Chelsea sat down next to her friend, giving her a loose hug. She wasn't good at being a comforting person, but AJ reminded her of a little kid that just fell off from her bicycle.

"It's stupid," she responded, wiping her cheeks.

"It isn't if you're this upset about it."

With a huff, AJ looked down, pointing at all the paperwork. "They're taking away my title."

Chelsea must've looked confused, because she continued, "All of my friends—Kailtyn, Tamina…my boyfriend…they all told me this would come eventually. I knew I wasn't going to have the title forever, but management has been straight up punishing me. The character they've chosen me to play disgusts me. I am my own person! And they were mad that I wouldn't do that stupid ass show…but now, they're using me as a direct blow to my boyfriend. He left the company without so much as a notice because he didn't like where the direction was going. They expect me to tell him to come back. But I'm not his keeper, and I supported his decision whole-heartedly. They didn't like that. I asked myself yesterday looking at all this bullshit they schedule me for if it's all going to be worth it. And you know what? My answer is no, it won't be." AJ explained herself further, her full logic jumpy and interrupted by a lot of sobs. Chelsea brought down the generic box of tissues from the bedside table.

"If you don't mind me asking, who are you slated to lose to?"

"An NXT rookie. It's supposed to be a swift kick in my ass, because I lost NXT. So losing to her would be an embarrassment. I don't have a problem with her whatsoever, and I'm glad it's not anyone that's using their boyfriends to get to the top…but Chels, TNA is starting to look better and better."

"AJ…" Chelsea started, seeing how hurt she , too, had to admit it wasn't to the likes of Natalie. Even the Bella twins would've sucked to lose to. As far as she could tell, there wasn't a lot of real competition in the woman's division, with the exception of Naomi.

AJ started to rise, pulling her bright orange tank top down. She took a deep breath, still shaking. She grabbed at the stack of papers she'd had scattered, and Chelsea realized they were scripts, matches, and outcomes.

"I'm not supposed to be at Smackdown. Well I mean, I am, but I'm not necessary. I think I'm going to go to Chicago for a few days." AJ shook her head, confirming that. "Yeah, that's what I'm going to do."

"What about all your promos?"

She looked down at her personalized itinerary. "The only thing I'm missing is a promo for Scooby-Doo goes to Wrestlemania. I'm going to skip out on Smackdown, let John Laurenitis know I'm down for the count with a stomach bug, and leave. I'll be back, Chels, you don't have to worry. I just really need time to sort out what I want to do." She began throwing things together in her duffel bag. She looked completely defeated, her ego deflated, and Chelsea really couldn't blame her. Would the company really put someone under so much scrutiny after the loss of one of their top stars? Really, it didn't seem right...

"Oh and hey, here's Tamina's number," AJ started scribbling on a hotel napkin, "I want to make sure you get to the next city without having to ride in a hearse." She smiled through her cloudy eyes, insinuating Natalie would kill her if she had the chance.

The women hugged, AJ composed herself once again, and left the room, swinging her two duffel bags and her Batman tote bag over her petite frame.

Chelsea felt just as alone as she did when she re-entered this world. Hoping that AJ's absence wouldn't be as daunting as it seemed it would be, she began to go through her clothes once again, trying to find something to wear to her next project. Frustrated, she muttered, "Fuck it," and went straight to the shower instead.

* * *

"Chelsea Sweetly, looking good," John Laurenitis had met her right outside the conference room, which Chelsea noticed was already full of dorky dudes with their laptops. She had decided to go for something simple, wearing a pair of black denim shorts that had studded grommets around the pockets. Paired with a gray tank top and a dark purple hoodie, she was as casual as ever for another business meeting. But really, for something like this, was it totally necessary to be wearing a suit? No. They were going to go through some tracks and pitch a few ideas back and forth anyways. At least, that's what she understood.

She raised an eyebrow at this guy, having only worked with him a few times. Was he mocking her? Because she felt he might be. She put effort in her hair and makeup, of course, straightening the shit out of her hair to the point of her wrist falling asleep.

And, as usual, her signature blacked-out eyes.

"Ready to find an entrance theme?" he asked her, a nerdy smile on his face.

"What are you going to pick, Chelsea? Afroman's 'Because I Got High'?" Natalie had been across the hall, which was the gym. A water bottle in hand, she had a bitchy smile spread across her lips. Chelsea wanted to punch it right off from her Quagmire-looking face.

"Dude, shut up," she replied, rolling her eyes. Since when was Nat cool with taking personal jabs at her co-workers? She never, ever spoke badly of anyone. At least, not the Natalie that she remembered. "I came with a few ideas," she told John, who nodded and opened the door for her. He looked awkwardly out of place in a catfight, and Chelsea stepped in, her black flip-flops snapping with each step.

But she could still hear Natalie singing down the hallway her own lyrics to the popular song—"I was gonna win the Diva's belt, but then I got high…."

Seriously? These fucking storylines were going to become easy. What happened to her old friend? Bitch!

"Chelsea, this is the best of our sound and technology team. Mike, Ted, Robert, Arlena, Ace, and Spurro," Chelsea's eyes darted between the group, her eyes landing on the only woman. She had bright, bleached blonde hair, perfect teeth, and an excellent smile. _So much for stereotypes, _she thought, as the woman-Arlena-began typing furiously on her laptop.

"Hey," she said, pulling the empty chair back and sitting down. She took out the crinkled notebook paper that she'd stuck in her back pocket, smoothed it out completely unprofessionally, and gave a big smile.

"Well, Chelsea. We've been throwing ideas around since we've heard of your return. The angle that Mrs. Levesque has given you, as you know, is the Total Divas hater. By the looks of it, that should be fairly simple."

Chelsea felt her cheeks getting warm as the flush crept up from her neck. "Should be cake," she replied, her voice controlled, as she struggled to hide how furious she was.

"Great. So that's what we want to focus on. An anti-diva. Without a doubt, you're pretty and you have moves," one of the dorks changed the direction of the conversation, for which she was grateful. _Laurenitis, let it rest!_

"We thought about using some of your old stuff, but we want to break away from what you were, for obvious reasons. That's why we'd like to focus on the darkness about you that you naturally have," the same man continued.

_Uhhh, what?_

"As you begin more matches, we want to put in more," another person joined. "But first, we want to focus on your look. For example, Lita's original entrance focused on her eyes coming through the storm. The Hardy Boyz had a swinging logo. So we want to focus on something that gives your character a statement."

Chelsea thought about this for a minute. Her main thing was her darkened eyes, but Lita's had featured hers. No copycat here.

Completely tuning out the chattering, she found herself wondering about Roman again. He'd watched her intently through the last end of her session. Didn't he have better things to do than watch a friend train someone? Not that she really minded, it was nice to have some eye candy around here. She wondered if having him around would stray her focus from training and prevent her from actually doing something in the company this time.

_No_, she decided, _that's not going to happen._ If she could put up with the Total Divas bitches, AJ's mistreatment, and having stupid Dean being her trainer, she could deal with a sexy as hell man watching them in the ring. If anything, she should use that as motivation. Besides, for all she knew, he wasn't going to be avidly lurking during her sessions.

"This is what I'm thinking," Arlena had finally voiced, a clear French accent breaking Chelsea's thought process. "We pan into Chelsea Sweetly's hotel room, and we catch her with her arms propping her on the nice sink, looking at herself in the mirror, and throwing a punch."

"And then what?"

The blonde woman thought. "Let's get a picture of her putting her eyeliner on. If we're focusing on her being an anti-diva, throwing a punch at her reflection is perfect. It's the best statement she can make: that she's careless about the things that the other women think are important."

The team began to nod, and Chelsea shook her head carefully. "I don't want to focus on my eyes, though. That's been done, you said so yourself."

"Alright, so after the punch, we'll have a shattered camera filter of you unzipping your black sweatshirt or whatever, tossing it on the floor, and we'll get a nice, broken view of that tattoo," the woman shot, scribbling down on a pad of paper. "We can use that image for most your entrance, throwing some fades in there, and the final image...you, putting the pieces of your mirror back together."

Chelsea had to admit, it was a pretty bad ass idea. It was different. It was getting the point across. And eventually, once she'd made a real debut, it'd only get better.

"I like it," she told Arlena, who was beaming. She was proud of her ink, a grueling twelve hours put into it, and it wasn't completely finished yet. Having had a huge fascination with Greek mythology, the image was a beautiful, faceless woman with her head tipped downward, opening up a box, unleashing all sorts of things. Diamonds, pearls, lace, bats, and demons all swirled together, beginning on her arm and ending at the opposite's shoulder. Pandora's Box. In Latin, there was a quote swirling around the woman, that roughly translated to "Curiosity often leads to trouble."

"I will get the outline out to Stephanie right away, then," one of the others said, clicking around on his own computer.

"Perfect," Arlena tapped a perfect manicured finger on the fake wooden table. "With a perfect look comes a perfect song. What've you got?"

Chelsea looked down at her creased paper, crossing off a handful because they didn't really flow well in her mind with the pitched video.

"Well, Dean Ambrose and myself have come up with a new finisher for me, called Sweet Dreams. So I thought Sweet Dreams by Marilyn Manson would be an interesting one."

The group talked about it, debating whether or not it was a good fit.

"Marilyn Manson gave us the rights to use Beautiful People," said one person.

"True, but bringing something new and fresh would be even better," said another.

"What else do you have?" asked the man that she thought was Ace.

"The Pretty Reckless," she said. "A few of their songs, actually."

"YES." Arlena clapped her hands together. "I was a huge Gossip Girl fan," she explained when all heads turned to her. "After Taylor Momsen's character disappeared, I found out why, and I enjoy some of her stuff. I think we could even get her to perform live in the future."

The next thing Chelsea knew, they were pulling up a ton of their songs on YouTube, debating and analyzing each.

Finally, the team and herself agreed: Make Me Wanna Die. An excellent song, Chelsea felt. It was pretty well-known, but would still make the kind of statement that she was looking for. Playing with the sound clips, they decided to start the music after the mirror punch. She was looking forward to the finished project, and given the proper copyright and McMahon approval, they had scheduled the shoot for her video Friday morning. Natalie would be eating her words for lunch.

_Take me, I'm alive._

_Never was a girl with a wicked mind._

_But everything looks better when the sun goes down._

_I had everything, opportunities for eternity._

_And I could belong to the night._

_Your eyes, your eyes. I can see in your eyes, your eyes..._

_You make me wanna die. _

* * *

**Yay! It's a long one. Been working on it most of the day. Anyways, I'll start writing the next chapter soon. Promise there'll be some more Roman in that one. :) Please, please R/R, I can't get enough of it. Makes my heart smile. **


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Slowly chippin' away on this one. I also love Natalya and I've only seen her act bratty on the show a handful of times. All of my other fics have her as a good character, but I think having her as a bitch is working.**

* * *

Roman had heard Natalie trash talk Chelsea as she'd left the gym yesterday. He was on a treadmill himself, pretending to listen to his headphones—but pulled them out once he'd noticed the raven-haired beauty just across the hall. He had chuckled to himself seeing her wearing those damn sandals again, while Laurenitis was, as always, wearing a button-up shirt and slacks. Curiosity got the best of him as he strained to hear their conversation, but all he really heard was the Hart Foundation's finest flap her gums.

The tall Samoan man couldn't help but feel badly for Chelsea. He didn't know much of her story, and maybe he never would. Whatever she'd done, though, definitely had rubbed Natalie the wrong way—in passing, Jimmy had made a mention that Natalie had spouted off about her briefly during this week's taping of Total Divas. Though he didn't know what was said, he would imagine that after her song yesterday, it wasn't anything nice. Then again, it would definitely add fuel to the fire, which he assumed was where the creative team was going with this whole thing. Roman sighed to himself, wondering where the team was headed with the Shield storyline. Right now, it looked pretty shitty. He wasn't quite sure that any of them were yet ready to branch off and do some single's matches when they hadn't fully gotten to their maximum potential.

"Ro, you gonna creep on more training with Dean?" Seth had broken his train of thought, but Roman shook his head. He'd clearly just finished his daily exercise routine, and was joining the dark-haired prodigy at a small table in the catering room, which was virtually identical to the one in Tampa Bay. They were lucky not to have needed to travel far yesterday, only heading to Orlando. The superstars and divas were moving on to Georgia next, and all Roman could think about was what in the fuck he was going to do until Monday Night Raw.

"Nah. He might think I'm on to something," he said, his tone very flat. He didn't want to give away the fact that he'd noticed, seen, and had been watching the woman who had caught his eye by merely being herself.

"Aren't you?" Seth asked, his smile widening.

Roman looked at his friend. "What?"

"Well, I mean, you were basically undressing her yesterday with your eyes."

Roman guffawed, clapping his best friend on the back. "Dude, are you sure that wasn't you?"

Seth smirked. "Big Man, you'd tell me if you had something for her, wouldn't you?"

Roman shrugged. "I don't know. She's cute. Seems like a nice girl. But we both know the most important thing in my life right now is my career."

Seth nodded. "Doesn't mean you can't have some fun."

"I really don't need that kind of distraction, Seth. She's barely come back into the company, and you're already thinking about what she's got under her yoga pants. Knock it off, you horny bastard."

Seth laughed, then left his friend again, having grabbed himself a water bottle and a tray of veggies from the room.

He hoped that his response was good enough for his friend. Seth was all about playing yet, and unlike Dean, wasn't ready to settle down. Roman used his career as a mask. In reality, though, Roman couldn't help but wonder more about Chelsea Sweetly.

* * *

"Chelsea, we have a big problem," Smackdown's Vickie Guerrero had addressed the taller woman. Chelsea wasn't prepared whatsoever for the tapings, even though fans had already began to form groups outside of the arena. Summer Rae, she thought it was, had been sitting there bitching about her hair for the past ten minutes to the poor hair dresser, and Chelsea was supposed to get her own hair curled nearly half an hour ago.

Vickie looked just as much a cougar as always, sporting a flimsy silver halter and black pants.

_Still better than my own sweet wardrobe, _Chelsea thought to herself sarcastically. She hadn't gotten to her clothes yet since she'd been hanging out waiting for this bitch to hurry it up. At this rate, she'd be announcing in her black leggings, oversized t-shirt that had a huge cupcake on it, and of course, her flip-flops.

"What's up, Vickie?" she asked the older woman, her eyes flicking from the blonde bimbo to the manager of Smackdown. She'd gotten to know her very well during her run in NXT, as she was great friends with Maryse. Though Maryse didn't always see eye to eye with Chelsea, Vickie sure did.

"Alex Riley is out for the night with a stomach bug. There must be something nasty going around, 'cause AJ is out for the night, too," Chelsea had to bite her lip really hard to avoid smirking. AJ sure lucked out; at least now it didn't look so sketchy that she'd done a disappearing act.

"Okay…" Chelsea wasn't a hundred percent on where the manager was going with this.

"He's supposed to do a few interviews tonight. The first one being with the Shield."

Chelsea's heart almost came up through her throat.

"You rocked it during Raw on the announce table. I wouldn't ask if I didn't need a decent interviewer tonight," Vickie's eyes plead, and the diva could tell that she was desperate.

"Alright. Just, um, let me know what I'm supposed to talk about…?" her voice fluctuated upward, so it seemed more a question than an acceptance. Chelsea had absolutely zero experience as far as interviewing went. But she was determined to keep the uppers happy, so she sure would put in a solid effort.

Vickie clapped her hands together, appearing as a weight was lifted off from her shoulders.

"Great! I'll get the notes to you in ten minutes, they're in my office yet," she turned to Summer, who was even still bantering with the stylist.

"We need you out, I've got to get Chelsea going here," she shrilly told the blonde, jerking her thumb to nowhere specifically. Summer Rae turned to Chelsea, rolled her eyes, and slipped out of the chair. She was clearly unhappy with the unfinished product of her hair.

But really, her boring, fried hair probably wasn't gonna get a whole lot better.

* * *

Chelsea ran through the interview a few times with the three men, definitely nervous as hell. The questions were pretty simple: Were they seeing things differently? Is that why Dean had left the other men defenseless in last week's triple tag match?

Luckily, Seth was so goofy that he made it a little less awkward. He said she'd be fine after she'd mentioned she was a last-minute replacement, then joked that she had spinach in her teeth. Dean looked salty, and she had no idea why. Their training session had gone fine, without any real hitches…so she could only assume that it wasn't her that he was so pissy about. But Roman, the tall man that she could not get her mind off from…ugh, she just couldn't pull her eyes away. He was sexy as hell, and even her dreams still had him popping up in them randomly. Like the shower dream, she'd had another warped memory/ dream just last night as Tamina slept soundly on the pull-out across the room.

_Jeff was particularly happy today, and it made Chelsea feel great. Even though she never knew which version to expect at any moment, the man that she'd spent her off-day with was by far her favorite._

_They were giggling, on the swings at the park just across the street from the hotel. Sure, they were high as shit, but it was great acting like a kid again. No cares in the world._

_Jeff pressed his head against Chelsea's, who was sitting on the black seat, not moving. _

"_I like the teal in your hair," he told her, brushing his lips against hers._

"_Thank you," she told him, a big smile across her lips. "It looks good on you, too. Even better than the purple."_

_Jeff smiled back, giving his friend another kiss. This time, though, Chelsea pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss. She nibbled his bottom lip, making him quietly moan. Stroking his hair, she grabbed a handful, noticing that it wasn't teal anymore._

_It was black._

"_You know what looks good on you, Chels? Nothing." Roman smiled as he slipped a finger through her belt loop, pulling her up._

"Alright, ya'll. We're going to be shooting in three minutes!" one of the cameramen handed Chelsea the WWE microphone, and she tapped it to see that it was turned on. She was pulled out of her daydream again, still not sure why one of the men she was to be interviewing kept popping up in her subconscious. Jeff made sense: they were like a relationship straight out of high school, elevated by drugs and a whole lot of stupid drama. Not to mention, he was her first real heartache.

Chelsea wore ripped tights and a tight black and purple dress along with some pretty kick ass heels. Vickie had won her over tonight with this outfit: it was a drastic difference from the pretty girl persona Steph seemed to style her as only a few days ago. If she had to dress up, at least this was the right way to do it. She smoothed her dress again, looking down at her legs, and feeling like she was ten feet tall. But, when she looked up and met Roman's eyes, she remembered that she was still a swell 5'6.

"Hey, your clip thing is coming undone," he said right after their eyes connected. He pushed the bobby pin back in place that held her bangs back into a Snooki-style poof.

Chelea's eyes bore into his gray orbs, and she couldn't help but feel something. The very same something she'd felt with Jeff…

Roman pulled away quickly, clearing his throat. Seth smirked, most definitely pretending not to notice. Dean, however, actually hadn't noticed at all; his head buried in his iPhone.

"Camera's rolling in thirty!" yelled a gopher, and cameras began to surround the four. Chelsea took a deep breath, and waited.

Without much trouble besides a few stumbles, she'd managed to make it through the interview. It was mostly Dean rambling about how the Shield was not going away anytime soon, give or take a few nods and grunts from the other two.

Her jitters disappearing, the end of the interview was coming, and she wrapped it up.

The Shield challenged The Usos to step it up and meet them in the ring, and Chelsea turned to the camera once more. "Sounds like a challenge to me. We'll see what the Usos think about that, next." Of course, the Usos would be coming to the ring after the commercial break in their ring gear as an "answer" to the challenge.

"That's a wrap," one of the men announced, and all three cameras and six or seven people ran off, going on to whatever they had to get to next.

Chelsea breathed a sigh of relief, her heart finally returning to a normal speed.

"You did great," a voice told her, as she began walking down the hallway. She had to interview freakin' Natalya yet, about her hopes to defeat AJ for the Divas title…only to be interrupted by the red-headed woman known as Eva Marie.

"Thank you, Seth," she answered the man who was alongside her, keeping in step with her strides.

"Are you doing anything after the show?" he asked, halting. She did, too, without even realizing it. Was he asking her on a date?

"Uh…no, I'm not particularly…"

"Great! I know we've only just met. But hey, you're training with the Dean Master, so we might as well all chill. We'll be ordering some pizza tonight, for sure. Ro just rented 2k14 so bring your a-game."

"I don't want to be crashing a bro-fest…" she interjected, but Seth put up his hand. "Nonsense. It might be fun. Besides, you said you had nothing going on, anyways."

But Chelsea gulped as the trio disappeared, ready to take on the wild tag-team.

Could tonight get any weirder?

Yes, it could. And it would.

* * *

**Hanging out with the boys? Might be interesting. And what about her interview with Natalie? Sounds like trouble's brewin'. :)**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you everyone! Onward. Please, R&R. Ya'll are my motivation to keep pluggin' away**.

* * *

"Chelsea Sweetly standing by with the number one contender for the Diva's championship belt, Natalya. Nat, as we saw the other night on Raw, the current champion, AJ Lee, was able to overcome odds against your cast mate, Naomi. Your match with AJ is getting closer, but can you see yourself being able to get through AJ's seemingly unbreakable wall?"

Natalya's grin grew wide as her eyes angrily flashed towards her former friend. Chelsea thought, for a moment, perhaps she'd botched part of the scene. It was taped, so they could re-do the scene later if they had to. But the fans there that night, they saw the error up close and personal.

"Well, Chelsea. Do you see yourself when you put your makeup on in the morning? Or do you always put it on in the dark?" Natalya said, a faux sweetness to her voice.

Chelsea felt her face get hot. No, she definitely hadn't botched anything. But Nat intentionally did. That little bitch comment was not in the notes that Vickie Guerrero had handed off earlier in the evening.

"Really, Chels. It's no surprise you and AJ have become buddies," the blond Canadian continued, and then looked down her nose at Chelsea's attire. "After all, you both dress like depressed middle school _girls." _She put emphasis on the word, making Chelsea feel like she was a few inches tall.

"But yeah, if you mean by AJ's unbreakable wall that Yeti named Tamina Snuka, then no, I'm not worried. What can she do against making AJ tap out to the sharpshooter?" Natalya had grown closer, and Chelsea could smell her sickening, sugary sweet perfume. With a creepy, demonic smile, her eyes were daggers into the black haired woman. "Don't get excited, Chelsea Sweetly. I know you're not a real wrestler, but the sharpshooter is my finishing move…not any kind of injectable."

With that, she winked right into the camera, leaving Chelsea stunned, mouth open, mic in hand, and the fans in Orlando speechless. Eva Marie, who was supposed to have interrupted and challenged Natalie, was nowhere in sight.

The last clip from the interview shown on the titantron was of Chelsea angrily thowing the WWE microphone on the cold, smooth concrete. Yep, she'd have to pay for that.

* * *

Roman sat with his two friends in their locker room, staring at the tiny TV screen in shock. There was no way that interview was approved.

"Wow," he said to himself, realizing that he'd finally spoken. "That looks like one nasty catfight."

Seth, mouth agape, shook his head and looked across Dean's chest at his oldest friend. "Yeah, I'd say so. Can they even say something like that on PG TV?"

"Doubtful," the Samoan replied, clipping and unclipping his leather wrist cuffs. "They'll probably cut that for Friday night, or maybe re-shoot it with Renee tomorrow. Either way, I see one hefty fine in Natalie's immediate future."

"Think they might take away her title shot?" Seth asked, and Roman considered that. He supposed it was entirely possible, if she'd ticked off the boss enough. 25,000 people did just see her call the newest announcer and interviewer a druggie…even if that was cut later; it surely would make its rounds on Twitter.

"She won't lose her shot, but she won't get the gold," Dean spoke for the first time, his face expressionless. His eyes were cold and dead, and his features were frozen in stone. He'd been acting really strangely recently, constantly annoyed by either someone or something. "It was a shitty thing to call her out like that publicly. But really guys, it's not like what she said about her was a lie."

The two men turned inward at Dean, who was positioned in the middle on the wooden bench. He pretended not to notice as he began a new text. Roman caught a quick glimpse at the contact picture —a blonde with sunglasses hiding her eyes, and doing what Naomi had called the "Duck Face." Sadly, the only woman Dean had eyes for since...what was her name again?

"What?" he asked, noticing his friends' stares after he pressed 'Send'.

"Dude," Seth said back, shaking his head as though he didn't approve of Dean's comment. Roman shook his head along, miffed that Dean would even side with the cruelty behind the angry words of the number one contender.

Everyone had a past. Roman had one, too…and so did Dean. The only difference was, none of them had received such hatred from their colleagues that their dirty laundry was aired. Sure, there was always the gossip. That was inevitable in any workplace. But the measures that the Total Divas star was taking were amazing. Surely, Natalie knew about Chelsea's struggle, but he could guess it was so much deeper than that. He'd seen it before, even in his extended family. Sometimes, drugs just outweighed the importance of other things. Even if you didn't want them to. They were a slippery slope, and by the time you decided to stop going downhill, you were already falling face-first over your own feet.

Dean sighed. "Look guys. I don't have a real problem with Chelsea. Really. She's fine in the ring, she does deserve to be here, for the most part. I didn't like her little buddy, Jeff, one bit. Especially the handful of times I had to work with him in TNA. It's hard to see her with her black and teal hair and not think of him, too. She still emulates his presence and I don't think she even realizes it."

Roman thought about that. He knew that Jeff Hardy had been in a serious relationship for quite some time, and had pretty recently gotten married. From what he knew, Chelsea and Jeff were just friends. How deep was his relationship with his so-called friend, though? Maybe she was still caught up in him.

"She's decent looking, besides that black shit she does to her eyes. I don't care to get to know her personality though. Between her past, her appearance, and the more retarded Hardy, I just can't get over that. Call it a twist of fate, but she's damaged, just like him. Besides, look at the women here, guys. Summer Rae, for example," his eyes darted towards Roman, who just rolled his eyes. He knew the tallest member had zero interest in Summer, but she was exactly the kind of person that Dean felt Ro should date.

"Women like Summer are the doting wives. The ones who take care of themselves, who look their best at every moment. Who take pride in their clothing choices. Just like my Marissa," Dean smiled to himself. "Trust me. Women like Chelsea are the problem with today's women. They curse like drunken sailors, spend irresponsible amounts of money on tattoos, and shop at Target. Personally, I prefer the feminine type. Dresses—easy access. Long hair to grab on to, gorgeous blue eyes, and a perfect 10 figure."

Roman scoffed, hoping his mate's monologue was going to end soon. Dean wasn't always such a sucker for stereotypical women. It was that stupid girl he'd met that changed him into the Ed Hardy wearing tool recently. Sometimes Roman missed the old Dean, who didn't care what the label was on his jeans. Sure, his confidence had skyrocketed, but the Dean he'd been friends with before was the one that he'd liked. But after a tumultuous end to his last relationship, he had changed.

"This girl," he jabbed a finger at the TV, which as currently blue and signaling a commercial break, "has nothing. Rubber shoes, Jeff's hair color, and ripped tights. Where's the future in that?"

"You forgot the fact that she can out-maneuver you in the squared circle," Seth mumbled, causing Roman to smirk.

"Yeah, Dean. Can Summer Rae do that?" he laughed along, the long-haired men antagonizing the ringleader.

"I'd definitely prefer Summer," Dean groaned.

"Well, that's great and all," Seth collected his laughs, but still chuckled. "But I like her, and I think she's pretty rad. She's not like the other ones here who stare at the flaws they have as a regular pastime. I know AJ's out for the night, and Sweetly doesn't know a lot of people, so I invited her over to game. You're welcome," he stretched his arms back, folding them behind his head.

Dean turned again. "You didn't think to clear that with me?" he said coolly, clearly annoyed. The icy tone in his voice caused Roman to cringe.

"Didn't realize I needed your permission, oh Great One," mocked Seth, his goofy smile spreading across his face. Dean sighed yet again, running a hand through his hair.

"Whatever," he mumbled, getting up from his spot. He hurriedly left the other two alone, and Roman turned to Seth, simultaneously breathing sighs of relief.

"When did Dean become such a bitch?" Seth asked, notably peeved.

"When he started dating one."

* * *

"The winner of the 2014 Royal Rumble is…AJ LEE!" Seth announced, and Roman groaned, holding up his own PlayStation 3 controller in defeat.

Since Chelsea Sweetly wasn't a character on the WWE game, she had no choice but to pick her lone friend. Roman played as himself, as did Seth and Dean. The latter were knocked out fairly early in the tournament, but Chelsea and Roman battled it out in the end.

"Yeah, like that would ever happen," Dean mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips anyways.

"Very impressive," Roman turned to Chelsea. "Even more impressive is how quickly you managed to take out Seth. He thinks he's some sort of video game guru."

"Nice button mashing skills, dude," Seth fist-bumped Chelsea, which only made her laugh.

"Well, you haven't met the real destroyer of all video games…my brother."

It was true. The siblings had grown up together watching Stone Cold Steve Austin and the Attitude era, and no matter how long they'd been apart, it was like they'd never stopped speaking. They'd chattered about newcomers like Gene Snitsky, and laughed at Goldust. And always, they pretended to play their favorite character's storylines on both the original PlayStation and later the PlayStation 2. While Toby dominated most sports games, Chelsea was fierce competition when it came to any wrestling ones…especially when she'd create unbeatable characters that often were based on herself.

"Well, I'd like to meet him. And by meet him, I mean challenge him to an epic duel," Seth raised his can of Diet Mountain Dew, as if to give cheers.

"One day, you might. I promised myself that once I get back in the ring, I'd send him a ticket to cheer me on."

"Do you see him often?" Roman surprised himself as he spoke. Chelsea was seemingly very independent, and he'd found himself growing curious during the talk of her brother. Since his own family was so tight-knit, he generally had the misconception that everyone else's was, too. Though he knew the thought was extremely juvenile, it still surprised him a bit when he found someone's home life was less than ideal.

"Not in awhile," Chelsea admitted sheepishly, her darkened eyes landing on Roman. She twisted her curly hair lamely, letting it unwind itself. "He's in the United States Air Force. So I did see him right after he graduated boot camp. But right now, he's doing more job training in Texas, I think."

Chelsea had to admit, she was glad that her relationship with Toby had began to deteriorate when she'd first began her career. She never, ever wanted her younger brother to see her in such awful shape. She had been pretty drugged during his boot camp graduation, but she hoped he was still pumped with adrenaline at the commencement of it to notice her zombie-like state. Though for the most part, the rest of her family, specifically her mother, was shamed by her drug habit and even more shamed when she'd disappeared to rehab. She guessed he knew where she'd been while she wrote to him from her double room in California. After all, her family sure did know how to talk about the odd-duck, which was, quite unfortunately, Chelsea.

"Can't wait to meet him," Roman responded, a sincere smile meeting her. There, he'd made some kind of a move. He hoped that she'd caught on to that.

"Hey, Ro, if I give you some change, you should run down to the vending machine and grab some candy," Seth started digging in his pocket, returning successful with a handful of coins.

"Sure, dude. What'd you want?"

"Not sure, really. Let Chelsea Sweetly pick, she seems like the one to ask," he winked at her, and she laughed again.

Roman loved her laugh. She had such a natural, tinkling one. He was really elated that it helped her mood being with his friends, even though Dean was still kind of in a mood himself . He had heard rumors about AJ losing her title, which he guessed was the real reason she wasn't around during tonight's tapings. Since locker rooms talked, he also knew that AJ had quickly befriended Chelsea, seeing as they were both immensely disliked by the other divas. Though he never fully understood what the big issue with AJ was, he did fear for Chelsea. With Natalie Niedhart as somewhat of a leader of the Total Divas, it was likely that the anti-diva with black and teal hair was now an enemy of all of them.

Chelsea got up from her position on the floor before Roman did, her long-sleeved, plain black t-shirt clinging to her stomach. Roman had to tear his eyes away when a tiny peek of her lace red thong rode a little high above her jeans. Which, he had noticed, accentuated her rear nicely.

Maybe that's why he'd lost to the girl…she was flippin' hot. A definite distraction. It worried him how much a distraction she might be...but whatever it was that had him constantly wondering about her had made his mind cloudy. And although she was a kid at heart, he found himself thinking that maybe there was more to this thing between them. He knew she'd be a tough case, with a broken past…but she was different, and didn't care that she was.

"Hey, Superman, are we gonna check out the heart attack machine, or what?" Chelsea's voice had brought him out of his own mind, and he stood quickly, feeling like a fool. Wearing his favorite gray sweats, she smirked at him, then led the way out of the room. Roman turned, and Seth caught his gaze, giving him a double thumbs-up and a ridiculous, over-caricatured smile.

He followed Chelsea as her dumb black flip-flops padded against the blue carpeting. He kept trying not to focus on her taut ass, but it was tough…she put in just enough wiggle to her step for him to look, but not enough to make her look like she was trying too hard.

"So, this night's been really interesting," she commented, stopping at the vending machine. He noted she sounded almost sarcastic, and if he knew she was being serious, he'd have questioned it. She dug some change out of her own pocket, counted it, then got herself some Raisinettes.

"It's always interesting around here," Roman replied. "But since you showed up and caused the ruckus in the divas division, it's gotten much more interesting."

Chelsea laughed heartily, shaking her head. "If you mean by causing ruckus, ensuring that I'm the black sheep, then yes. I love wrestling. I've dreamed this since I was a little kid. But sometimes I still think that I should cut the ties while I can. People know what I did, and it blows. I hate to say it, but who I was is all I'll ever be."

Roman stood closer to the woman, whose face became blotchy with her confession. She had a bit of a breakdown, but he was grateful that she'd told him, of all people. Perhaps she was just hurting for anyone to listen to her screams, but that didn't seem like the type of girl that she was. He could tell that she was frustrated with recent events. He couldn't blame her. But he felt as though she was sucking him in closer, and he almost ached to know this strange, beautiful, chaotic woman. It was almost unexplainable, but if this was what love felt like for Jimmy and Naomi, he was pretty sure that's what was going on.

_Slow down, Superman._

"Who you were is not who you are, Chelsea. I can see you for who you are, whether or not you want to believe it. You're still hurt. You're sad. You're angry. And you feel like you're alone." Roman felt like he was quoting from a novel, and the moment was almost too good and too perfect to be reality.

"You don't know me," she said quietly, throwing a handful of her chocolate raisins into her mouth. She was agitated, but still carried a wounded puppy look in her eyes.

"You're right. But the more I see you, and spend time with you, the more I think I'd like to."

Chelsea searched his face for a moment, not sure if he was being an asshole or not. Roman's face was solid, and if anything, honest.

"You don't know what I did, then," she answered, pushing him away.

"It doesn't really matter."

"It does to me."

She turned away from him for only a moment, before looking at him again out of the corners of her eyes. He stepped towards her again, considering giving her a hug, but she backed away as though she could read his mind.

"I should really get going," she mumbled, tripping over her flip-flop. Roman caught her mid-fall, and she looked up at him again. He noticed that her darkened eyes were the purest of blue, with gold flecks around the middle. Just like a sunny day. If this were a movie, he'd kiss her. He would admit that he couldn't stop thinking about her, and he thought that maybe, despite his best intentions, she was the missing link in his life. He'd said he was worried about his career and didn't have time for a woman...but this moment made him think otherwise.

She broke the embrace quickly, embarrassed. "Tell Seth I said thanks. Really. I just have a long day tomorrow," she stumbled away from Roman. It wasn't far from the truth. She'd be shooting for her entrance video, plus training, plus either starting on the road or taking a few days off to go home. He didn't ask what her plans were after her day was complete, although he did wonder.

Even though Roman worried that he'd scared her off, he knew he hadn't. If anything, he made her think. And maybe she wasn't ready to break her odd bond with the younger Hardy brother, but when she was, he wanted to be the reason she did.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: So Roman knows that he's falling. Come on, Chelsea, break that weird bond you think you have with Jeff Hardy and fall, too!**

* * *

_Jeff was pissed. There was no way around it—he had just spent the past hour arguing with that average-looking thing he called his girlfriend. Chelsea could at least pride herself in knowing that in a looks contest, she would always win. Yet, as always, that's not what Jeff was looking for._

"_Someone's mentioned you again," he growled angrily, making both Chelsea and their driver nervous. They'd opted to take a taxi this time, fully knowing how expensive the trip to the next city would be. But if they paid the driver properly, he would have no opinion on the skunky smell emerging from the back seat as Jeff lit his red, blown-glass pipe._

"_I don't know why she's so worried," Chelsea said back, taking a hit. "She has you. I don't. The end."_

_But Jeff was still irate, his mixture of marijuana and painkillers obviously clouding his head._

"_Mister Ray, can we stop at the next rest stop?" he asked, as gentlemanlike as he was capable of. He always carried himself well, and it somewhat surprised Chelsea to see what he was truly capable of. The taxi driver tipped his uniformed cap in response, and Chelsea's palms began to sweat. _

_What could Jeff have in mind for her this time?_

_The next stop came all too soon, and Jeff got out, pacing back and forth, pulling at his hair like a lunatic. Chelsea, still in a daze, followed him in hopes to be consoling. For the most part, they didn't do anything wrong. Not really. Not today. _

_Not with each other._

_Jeff had been holding out on her lately. She would nibble at his neck, just as he liked. She wore that slinky black shirt today, showing off her chest, the peek of black lace from her bra showing slightly. She wore her hair down, curled perfectly, the teal fresh as ever…just as he liked._

_She even had on those jeans._

_But nothing worked. Jeff was a dead soul, his integrity of trying to stay faithful overcoming her attempts. She had found herself in tears at the arena the night before, frustrated with Jeff continuously turning her away. He'd been worse than normal, always fighting some sort of an inner battle. All she could do was stand by and watch. _

"_I love my girlfriend, Chelsea. Being away for so long, I fucking hate it. That's where your sweet little pussy comes in," he was still pacing, his voice creepily calm. It reminded her that they were still there, at the rest stop. "But when you fuck with my future, I fuck with you." He turned to go behind the rest stop. Chelsea stupidly followed._

_There were no cameras back there._

"_Jeff…" she started, putting a hand on his arm. He stared at her fingers with his mouth curled, like maybe she had shit smeared on her hand or something.  
_

"_Who'd you mention our shit to?" he yelled. He didn't make sense often when he'd talked, but Chelsea knew that when he said 'our shit,' he meant, 'this fucked up relationship we have.' This wasn't the first time they'd argued about his stupid girlfriend, and probably not the last. _

"_Nobody," she said calmly. Though it was basic knowledge now that they had something going on. That's just what happened when you did everything with people you worked with. She wished she'd had some kind of downer, so she could just go to sleep until tomorrow. Until Jeff's mood brushed over, and then hopefully it could finally go back to normal._

"_I love you, Jeff. I know you want to keep things as they are, and as much as I hate it, I understand. But that's why I wouldn't say anything to hurt your relationship."_

_Jeff scoffed. "What do you know about love, Chelsea?"_

_Chelsea bit her lip. She did know that Jeff's so-called love for his dim-witted girlfriend wasn't real. If it were, he wouldn't use drugs to pretend he was okay, and he wouldn't use her to pretend he wasn't alone._

_She also knew that what she felt for Jeff was what she suspected was love. If only he'd returned her feelings._

"_That's what I thought." He'd turned away again, angrily. He balled up a fist, throwing it against the concrete wall._

"_I'm so sick of hiding things," he said through clenched teeth. Chelsea grew more nervous as Jeff became more obviously livid. Whatever he'd taken earlier was taking its toll on him, and he was angrier and more volatile than ever._

_Chelsea yelped when she saw Jeff's hand, cracked with blood. But he neared her, his eyes still blazing._

"_You are not her," he said again. He'd said this hundreds of times. His mind was jumping all over the place, and Chelsea wondered how his brain was stringing together all this nonsense. _

_"I don't want you. And I can't let you continue to run your mouth and give Beth ideas that I'm shacking up with someone else!"_

_His fist connected with her stomach, making her double over, kneeling to the ground. Kicking her, she was now on the concrete, holding herself and putting her hands over her head._

"_Jeff, come on…please, just stop," she sobbed, each blow a little harder than the last. She didn't understand why he was doing this to her. It was a vicious cycle, she knew, and in a few days, they'd be laughing together as he undressed her in a hurry. _

_He didn't stop. He stomped on her, pulled her hair, and even spit on her. _

"_Get walking," he said, as he turned away, back towards the taxi. _

_As he turned, Chelsea almost thought she saw wings sprouting from his back. Call it a hallucination, but Jeff was still some kind of angel to her._

_Even if what he did sometimes looked like the act of a devil._

* * *

"Wake up, Chelsea," Tamina was shaking her bunk mate awake, her voice almost motherly. "You keep on tossing and wimpering," she half-whispered, her voice still groggy.

Chelsea felt humiliated. She glanced at the clock—it was almost four a.m. She was supposed to meet Dean at 6 a.m., sharp. Her day would be packed full.

"I am so sorry," she said, sitting up. "That was one of the worst nightmares I've ever had. It felt really real," she added, and she wasn't lying. The scar by her ribcage was burning. Lennon had joked in the past that it was her "Harry Potter" scar, but it wasn't really funny at all.

"Any chance that your nightmare had vibrant colored hair and expertly moonsaults off from ladders?" Tamina asked, her eyes trying to read the smaller woman.

"No," she responded, and she knew the daughter of the legend didn't believe her as soon as she said it. "I dreamt I got mugged," she offered, but the woman shook her head.

Tamina returned to the pull-out, her fluffy cheetah-print blanket spread over it. She had a lot to do in a few hours, too, and Chelsea felt horrible for waking her up with another stupid dream.

She hadn't had this one in awhile. Jeff still haunted her, and she hated that no matter what, it was like she had tucked him in her back pocket like a loose dollar bill. Her head was throbbing, something that her grandma had always joked was just memories fighting each other. And after a dream like that, she agreed.

She decided to just wake up now, grab some coffee, and head down to the gym. She'd seen boxing gloves and a solid dummy yesterday. Though she knew nothing about boxing, she wanted to pretend it was Jeff.

* * *

_"Chelsea, what happened at the rest stop?" The athletic trainer had the woman up on the examination table, looking at her cracked, raw, dirt-crusted feet. Jeff had left her to walk from the rest stop to the nearest gas station, which was seven miles away, in just her rubber flip-flops. She'd called Natalie, but she was already at the next town, and she'd called Matt Hardy, but his phone went straight to voicemail. In a last-ditch effort, she called Derek, one of the athletic trainers that didn't shoot her dirty looks. Luckily, the trainer hadn't been much further ahead, and turned around to get the woman from the gas station._

_"The taxicab left me there. I don't think he meant to, I think it was just a miscommunication. But then a gray van rode up, and I got nervous…there was a large man, and another smaller man that came out of it. He threatened that if I didn't give him money, he'd hurt me. Well, my bags were still in the taxi…" she trailed, clenching her ribcage._

_It was so far from the truth, of course. But Derek seemed to buy it. She said she couldn't get a good look at the license plate, and that they'd pulled around back where she'd noticed there weren't any cameras. He still wanted her to file a full report, and she promised she would._

_But of course she wouldn't. The whole thing never even happened. But it was believable, and it protected Jeff._

_"Well, Chelsea, I hate to tell you, but one of your ribs looks like it's cracked. If we don't get it where it belongs, it could puncture your lung."_

_"But I have the diva battle royal coming up next week," she started getting up from the table._

_"Chelsea, you'll be lucky to walk next week."_

Chelsea was sweating, and with each piece of the memory, she hit the punching bag. She didn't have a whole lot of work with these before, but it was an excellent stress reliever, and she could now understand the appeal.

She never was able to compete in that match. She'd been sidelined after Jeff's attack for a month, only getting to be a special guest referee once. The surgery to fix her broken rib was a quick one, but it left her with that nasty scar that was a definite eyesore.

She punched the bag again, sending it lobbing backwards.

Then, she'd been called into Stephanie's office right after.

Another punch.

And she was fired.

With all of her might, she threw a right hook, picturing Jeff Hardy's smiling face, alongside his bride. She'd begged Lennon to pull up the photo on her phone since she'd had her privileges reinstated a week before Chelsea did. It was grotesquely against the rules, but she had to know if the man she loved more than the air she breathed had truly gone through with it.

And when she saw that he had, she could've sworn a piece of her had died.

"Easy there, tiger," a rough voice surprised her, and she stopped, steadying the punching bag. She turned to see Roman, getting ready to work out himself. She instantly grew nervous, knowing that she still had only the makeup on she'd slept in.

Telling herself she didn't care what Roman thought, she smiled weakly. Alright, she cared. Just a little bit.

"You're up early," she said to him, and he started out towards the free weights.

"Not really. It's already quarter to six."

Chelsea began to panic. "Ah, shit. I've been pounding Jeff-er, this punching bag for that long? I need to get going to train with Dean…" she blushed, having mistaken that dumb bag for Jeff Hardy. Even though she figured it was equivalent to his personality.

"Good news," Roman smiled, showing his teeth. She'd noticed he had one that was just slightly chipped. "I'm training you today."

What the hell? Really?

"Why?" she asked slowly, afraid of his answer. She worried that maybe Dean had given up on her.

"Because you need a little bit of strength training. Not just physical," he added, looking back at her, selecting a ten-pound weight and handing it over. He began a rotation with his own, and she followed suit.

"You're letting them get into your head," Roman said after a few reps. "You know that this company is probably 40 percent talent, 50 percent attitude, and 10 percent management."

Chelsea laughed. "You forgot 80 percent looks," she said back. "They hate me."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Maybe you need a new mirror," he lead her towards the huge mirror, where muscleheads generally checked themselves out while they pumped their iron.

"Does that girl look like someone who's just average?"

Though she looked tired in her eyes, the rest of her was awake. She was proud of the muscle she'd put on. She did look pretty fierce. Less like a beanpole and more like a fit, proportioned young woman.

Though she wished she'd bothered to darken her eyes a little bit.

"Didn't think so," Roman said back when she didn't respond, but she smiled at her reflection. "And you know it's not all about looks. People don't know how to react to what they don't understand."

Chelsea thought about that, and she knew he was right. Mr. Superman himself, Roman Reigns, giving her a pep talk? Had she really that obviously been hurt after Natalie's spat yesterday?

They'd moved on to more weights, the bench press, and the medicine ball. Roman was extremely cautious with her, and she took great appreciation to that. Sure, she knew how to work out, but to the level of his own fitness schedule? Nope.

* * *

Roman couldn't believe Dean had agreed to let him train Chelsea this morning. He had another rough night of texting, and Roman figured he just wanted to keep his girlfriend happy and continue to argue with his fingertips. He would never understand why he kept that bitch around.

Either way, they both got what they wanted. Roman wanted the woman to know that while he held interest in her, he still truly cared about her and wanted to protect her. He also wanted to make sure she grew a thicker skin, because there would be thousands of people talking shit about her once the fans began to form opinions. Natalie was nothing compared to how brutal people who didn't know a lick about you talked. She wouldn't last long if she let everyone walk all over her.

People always implied that he'd gotten his own push and been called up to the main roster just in lieu of his family. Fuck the fact that he worked hard as hell to be where he was, struggling everyday and straining his shoulder so that he could put on a hell of a show. But people believed what they wanted, and Roman knew the truth.

He wanted to know Chelsea, and the truth she kept hiding, too.

He'd watched her in the gym for about ten minutes before he'd walked in, and she was muttering to herself with every punch. He wasn't surprised when she'd said she'd been kicking Jeff's ass—sometimes, imagining someone you hated really worked when it came to flying fists.

He watched her now, trying to mimic each move he made. He wanted to make a comment about her makeup being less frightening than usual, but managed to keep his mouth shut. He'd figured it out right away: that black eyeliner was some kind of a mask. Her eyes were a tell-tale to her thoughts, and she probably already knew that.

"So, are you heading back on the road right away? Or are you going home?" he asked her as she began adding weights to the leg press.

"Well, I'd rather dig a hole and lie in it for a few days before visiting my mom at home," she said. "I guess I'll see what Tamina's up to. Hopefully AJ comes back soon."

"AJ will probably meet up in the next city. If you want, you can come with me for a few days before hittin' the road."

"Where?"

"Miami."

Chelsea considered this. "You're asking me to come home with you?" she chose her words carefully, and when she said them, Roman felt like he was being a creep.

"If you want. If you don't have anything better to do, I have a nice guest room in my apartment."

"What about Seth? And Dean?"

"Dean's just being Dean…and Seth is planning on leaving to go to Georgia sometime tonight. I just kind of want time to escape the madness for a few days."

He watched her think about this again, hoping she'd say yes. Because then, he'd have a reason to get to know her, and it might prove that she had some kind of feeling towards him, too.

He knew she felt something, because you just couldn't fake the kind of electricity that buzzed between them last night. Or right now.

"Well, Superman. I hope you have thumb exercises ready, 'cause I'm going to kick your ass all over again on 2k14."


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: You guys are the coolest. Please, feel free to review as well as follow and fav, I love opinions and predictions make me even more happy. The song in this is called The Promise by In This Moment. **

* * *

Roman had insisted that he escort Chelsea to her shooting session. She made him swear he wasn't going to stand there and watch.

Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely honest. The shoot was held within the hotel, because they had an immaculate suite open and available. The hotel manager was thrilled to have the room used in a WWE video and offered the key card as soon as John Laurenitis had asked.

Even though the shoot looked odd, a lot of cuts and actions, the idea was a solid one. One of the technology team members, the lone woman, had helped Chelsea put on some sort of photo makeup, so her face and skin looked flawless as ever.

He'd watched what Chelsea looked like while she put on her black mask, and wondered if she'd looked that beautiful every morning when she did.

He also watched the woman get frustrated, teary-eyed (with the help of Visine), then reel back and punch toward the mirror, which looked very much like the one at the beauty parlor his mom used to drag him to when he was a young child, to look through tons of magazines while she got her "hair did." He imagined the glass shattering, and thought how, regardless of the concept, she had no reason to be angry over how she looked. People just expected her to be something she wasn't, and that was a heavy load to carry.

But, that dress—he couldn't take his eyes off from her in it. It was a beautiful black and maroon colored gothic style dress, clinging to each of her curves. It fell right above her knees, without sleeves but black armwarmers pulled up to her elbows, accentuating her lean arms. The corset was tied up tightly in the front, pushing her breasts upward, and Roman could've sworn he'd drooled a bit. Wow! She wore black boots and sheer, dark colored tights.

The blonde lady had sprayed her dark hair a thousand times, making certain that not a single hair was going to stray, that her pretty curls stayed in place. Roman wasn't prepared for the final image, though—Chelsea destroying that gorgeous black dress, letting it fall apart in shreds by her own hands. He assumed the camera was staying above her black strapless bra, focusing in on her back tattoo. He was intrigued by the images, and he knew it was some sort of Greek mythology or something by the Latin…he didn't know anything about it, but he hoped that sometime during their stay in his home, he'd find out more.

They took shots around her, showing her grab on to her hair, her arms covered in black armwarmers. They got one final look from her, a look that spelled out death, as she peered from beneath her veil of hair.

And finally, they got her playing with broken glass, as though she was trying to re-assemble a mirror, a delicate red rose off to the side. The image was perfect: she looked like she was finishing a puzzle or sorts, hanging out in her black bra and some sort of spandex shorts.

_Stop staring._

"That's a wrap," said someone, and Roman knew it was time to leave before she noticed that he was still being a creep. The woman brought over a robe for Chelsea, a smiled plastered on her face like she'd finished the shooting of an Academy Award-winning movie.

Roman stifled a laugh as he turned to leave, because the robe Chelsea was now wound up in was the most horrible shade of baby pink he could ever dream up.

* * *

The drive to Miami with Roman was kind of a long one, but they chattered like old friends. Chelsea couldn't believe how easily and naturally she was opening up to Roman. It was almost like he could pull any information out of her if he so desired. She hoped she wasn't just talking to fill silence, but she enjoyed that he listened, offering advice or comment once in awhile.

Chelsea told him about how her mom had gone off the deep end awhile ago, throwing herself into a life with her new husband. Toby had gone off to boot camp, and that was the only proud moment their mother had of Toby. Otherwise, he was the wild one, always getting into trouble and always causing some. Until Chelsea met Jeff.

She chattered about how she'd trained with Natalie, about how the Bella twins had kept their distance even though they didn't have any direct problem with her, and about how she'd suspected that the blonde woman was behind their silence. She mentioned that the women's division wasn't looking very hopeful right now, because the people with talent had either terrible gimmicks (Naomi) or were just outright hated (AJ).

She mentioned that she was still hurt that Nat hadn't invited her to the greatest Hart Foundation event of the year, her wedding.

She said that she'd hoped that the woman that was to take over AJ's title was an excellent champion, and that WWE didn't turn her into some sort of weak, girly champion that latched on to whoever, like they had with so many others.

Roman had asked her about her tattoo, saying he'd noticed that it was there, but didn't know what it was. And so, she talked about how many hours she'd sat through with her tattoo artist, deciding the perfect placement and imagined what Pandora's box really would have held. She showed him the medical symbol on her wrist, saying she was paying homage to the rap artist, Eminem, because he'd gone through some serious struggles. She'd learned that Roman's own tattoo was a Samoan tribal band, and that many men in his family had similar fashions.

Then she started telling him that no matter what she did, her dreams still revolved around her past. They were only bad memories, but she'd give anything to have the traditional being chased by a lion nightmare.

"Sometimes when you dream something, it's because your subconscious is still stuck on it," he told her. "Even when you think you've moved forward."

Chelsea picked at her dark purple fingernail polish that she'd only just put on last night. He knew that she still thought about Jeff, and saw him in her mind, and felt him every step. He probably also knew that she was dying to just let it all go. But how?

"Chelsea, from a friend—there are six, almost seven billion people in this world. Don't let one continue to ruin your life."

She looked at him, trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. For lack of a better metaphor, he'd read her like an open book.

He jerked the wheel, merging onto a highway. "We're only about an hour away now," he commented, catching her eye. As if he never said the previous comment at all.

She slid her sunglasses down from her head, the sunlight starting to annoy her eyes.

"He's not still ruining my life," she stated, trying to sound convincing.

Roman was grinning, almost cockily. "He's still a part of it," he shot back, though the tone was soft.

"He isn't even in it anymore."

"But you want him to be. You've kept the ends of your hair teal, just like his."

Chelsea laughed. "So because I dyed my hair to match his once upon a time, because he had a little bit extra mix, I want him in my life? Superman is actually the Hulk…the green one, with a small brain and a lot of muscle."

Roman dug an elbow into Chelsea's side, trying hard not to laugh and keeping his eye on the road.

"Why don't you change it, then?"

"I will!"

* * *

The next major exit, he turned off the highway, finding a drugstore on the main turnoff.

"Pick a color, any color," he said. "Not teal, or any form of teal. I'll be waiting."

He wondered if he was being harsh on Chelsea. But through the whole time they'd talked, he had to admit that she was a lot deeper of a person than he'd ever met. The woman wasn't one-dimensional…with women like Marissa or Summer, what you saw was what you got. Nothing special.

It was, however, high time that Chelsea chopped her damn binds. He'd always heard Naomi say "New hair, new life!" and maybe it'd work for Chelsea, too. At least when she looked at herself in the mirror, she wouldn't think of Jeff in the back of her mind. He was surprised that Dean was completely right about why she kept it the way she did, and he couldn't help but wonder how he'd know something like that.

Chelsea emerged from the building, a plastic bag in hand.

She sat down, clearly a little embarrassed.

"Well?" he said, prompting her to open the bag.

She pulled out a box of the Splat brand that Eva Marie was notorious for using. But instead of the flaming color she had, Chelsea held crimson in her hand.

"The lady at the beauty counter said it would cover the teal," she mumbled.

Roman hugged Chelsea, proud that she'd stuck to her word. She looked up at him, still in his awkward embrace. He was so close, all he had to do was bend down, and his lips would find hers….

She cleared her throat, pulling away. "So about that 2k14 rematch," she changed the subject, avoiding the fact that they just had one intense…moment.

He shifted the car into gear. "You can't beat me. Not this time. I was just going easy on you because I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

* * *

What the hell had happened in the parking lot?

Chelsea was pretty sure that Roman was about to kiss her. She sort of wanted him to. After he called her out on her hair, she was done for. She always thought that nobody knew the real reason she'd spent so much time trying to keep it from fading to Jeff's favorite teal to a greenish yellow.

But, you shouldn't miss people who don't miss you, right? Jeff had made it clear that he was done with her. All the times he was silent after she declared her love, and all the time she spent on a very one-sided love...she was starting to get choked up in regret. She closed her eyes, hoping to pull up a good memory.

_"Chelsea," she heard Jeff whisper, and she moved, letting him lay next to her._

_"I've missed you," she mumbled sleepily, an empty bottle of Jack next to her._

_"I know." They stayed like that for a moment, and he pulled her face towards his, his kisses intoxicating. She began peeling her black t-shirt off, her breasts bouncing with release. Jeff breathed into her neck, and she felt his member thick through his basketball shorts. He smoothed her hair, pushing his body on to hers..._

_"I can't stay for long. I'm not supposed to be here," he murmured, his lips still caught on hers._

_"You're only suspended," she spoke back. She hadn't expected him to turn up at all tonight, even though she'd been texting him in hopes that he would. _

_"For now. What if I won't be here anymore?" he asked, pulling away. His eyes shown in the darkness like stars._

_Chelsea pulled herself up, her naked body chilled. She could feel her tears coming, her voice caught in her throat. She hadn't given thought to more action regarding Jeff's current suspension because it didn't seem like an issue. But what if he was fully expelled from the WWE? She'd be alone, without the only person who cared about her._

_"This wouldn't work anymore," he said finally. "I mean...we couldn't work anymore."_

Chelsea woke up in a second, throwing that memory back into the pile of crap it crawled out of. Who was she kidding? With Jeff, there was no 'good' memory. Besides, she could pull them out whenever she wanted, but the fact was, Jeff wasn't coming back.

She looked at Roman, who was concentrating on his driving. He looked back at her and smiled an almost knowing smile. Both were silent for a moment, and Chelsea fought the urge to pull out her iPod and blow her eardrums out. The ride had become very weird, and the air became almost stiff in Roman's car. Thoughts of Jeff danced in her head. She shifted, pulling her feet up on the seat like a little kid might do, holding her ankles.

Roman must've read her mind, because he flipped on the radio. He toggled the switch for a moment, and settled on something. It had a fantastic guitar riff, then slowed, the melody and female vocalist was haunting, similar to the late, great likes of Cher.

_No matter what you say or what you do,_

_I know how this will end._

_So I'm turning away now, before we begin._

_I'm dangerous for you, dangerous for you._

Roman reached for the radio again, but Chelsea knocked away his hand. The song had been purely coincidental, but she had to know who and what it was—it was describing how she was thinking perfectly. She had to know how this song ended, because she couldn't help but wonder if that's how _this_, whatever _this_ was, would end, too.

_I'm dangerous, I'm dangerous for you,_

_My promise is, I will hurt you._

Well, that didn't sound too promising. Chelsea was fully aware that she was running from Roman, who had her back, and so far, hadn't judged her negatively for her past behavior, just the part where Jeff still controlled it. Like a puppet master of sorts. Regardless, she wanted to let Roman get close to her, but she couldn't help but feel like she was going to hurt the memory she held tightly of Jeff, her first love.

But Roman's words still hung in her head, urging her not to keep letting someone ruin her life. Maybe she should let Jeff go...besides, the truth was, there wasn't much left to hold on to.

Taking a deep breath, she switched off the radio, and slipped her hand onto Roman's, which was resting on the drive shaft. She wiggled her fingers into his large hands, and he turned towards her, his face knit together in question.

"If you want to get to know me…if you want to learn more….I think I'm willing to talk," she said, her thoughts just as jumbled as her words. "But it's not all perfect."

He looked at her for a long moment, then turned back to the empty highway. The words hung in the air, and all Chelsea could think was that perhaps she'd read him totally wrong. He was going to shoot her down, too. Take the rug right out from under her feet, and break whatever was left of the heart she had.

"I didn't expect it to be. Besides, perfect isn't real," he said finally, his eyes searching hers. Chelsea breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and he squeezed her hand with his. She had given Roman the go-ahead, the green light. She was going to talk to him about the bullshit she'd gone through, seen, and felt. That in itself was an accomplishment. One step at a time.

Or in this case, one giant leap.

* * *

**Oh, yeah! :) Looks like a breakthrough, right? We'll see.**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Yay! Thanks for all the follows, faves, and reviews. Love ya'll. And I know I tend to use ring names/real names depending on the character. Mostly, I do that when it's easier to use—for example, I kept referring to CM Punk as Phil Brooks in my other fic, and still had questions from younger readers. So, I try to keep it simple enough for everyone to follow. Anyways, yay! Forward march.**

* * *

"Do you like waffles?"

The odd question from the Samoan man surprised Chelsea, who was busy watching the scenery fly by her window. Her hand was still entwined with his, though it was starting to get the tingles like it was falling asleep. But she didn't care, because she wanted to feel connected to him. Because he made her feel better.

Chelsea couldn't really remember if she'd actually visited the city of Miami, or just spent time in hotels and airports. Either way, she wasn't prepared for it. For starters, it was beautiful. But the downtown area was full of bustle at almost four in the afternoon, and the streets were lined with boutiques, cars, bistros, bars, and a whole slew of nightclubs. She noticed a candy shop with caramel apples and fudge in the window, and her mouth watered. She was, as her ring name implied, easily swayed towards anything sweet.

She also noticed a shop called Selina's, a small store with a gold awning that had awesome thigh-high boots, a dark gray lace camisole, and some ass-kicking skinny jeans on the window display mannequin. Making a mental note to stop down there at some point during her visit here, she understood why Roman called this city home. Despite the amount of people, she couldn't imagine ever getting bored.

"Waffles are….cool," she responded lamely, but for the odd question, she thought it was a decent answer. She didn't see any waffle houses on the main drag, just a whole lot of sushi bars and a Subway.

"Over here it's a little touristy," he told her, flipping on his turn signal and turning away from the chaos. He'd gone to a more secluded part of the area, turning into the parking lot of a rickety old restaurant, some kind of Ma and Pa's diner. The outside was decorated with awful flamingos, but the painted wood birds that lined the building were chipped, some of them missing beaks, some of them not even pink anymore, and some without eyes, giving the appearance that they were winking.

The old sign up on the building was in desperate need of a paint job, too, and was named just as tacky as the outside, the words "Old Pink Bird's Waffle House." Not to mention, it was a mouthful and a half.

Roman opened the door for her, giving her sleeping fingers a rest. They entered the restaurant, and he led her to a two-person table near the back, the kitchen door to their left.

Of course, the inside was decorate in a similar fashion as the outside, but the cheap plastic flamingos were lurking in every corner, palm tree photographs up against the walls. The waitress, who appeared from behind the kitchen counter, appeared in a hot pink polo shirt, the buttons pulling across her large chest.

"Aw, hell nah," she said, clapping her hands together at the sight of Roman. "Don't ya dare tell me Romy came up in here without givin' a nod at 'ol Loretta Mae!" she came bounding towards their booth, her thick thighs running into the chairs pushed into the table next to them. "And lookie here, he got himself a girl with him. Sweet Lou, show your ugly mug on out here!"

The woman was a large, aged dark-skinned woman, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun. She had a grandmotherly feel, her warm brown eyes shining at the pair. She looked like a no-bullshit woman, and Chelsea warmed to this woman right away.

An old man in a cook's uniform poked his head out the kitchen door. He was just as old, but extremely tall, age spots sprinkling his cheeks. He wore his black hair tied into a braid, and when he smiled, Chelsea noticed he was missing one of his front four teeth.

Sweet Lou gave a low whistle, saluting them, then turned back into the kitchen.

Loretta Mae ruffled Roman's hair like he was a little kid, a huge smile on her face. "You ain't been 'round here lately," she motioned towards the front door. "Been keepin' busy, I see," she said, turning to Chelsea. "I'm Loretta Mae, Romy's nanny," she said inching closer to her, still smiling.

"Chelsea," she smiled back, showing her teeth. This woman had an infectious smile, and made her miss her own family. Even though she wasn't nearly as close to her own as she'd wished.

"Well, Romy, she is a pretty one," she clapped her hand on the table, headed away. "I'll bring ya the usual," she clicked her tongue. "Ya'll keep yo hands to yo selves."

Chelsea shook her head, trying not to laugh as her hand found Roman's knee under the table. He winked at her, and she felt like a teenager again. Butterflies and all.

"You're not allergic to nuts, right?" he asked, suddenly worried, and she shook her head no.

"Ginger," she replied. "Cookies, ginger ale…" and she smacked him from across the table when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Shut up," she laughed, and Loretta Mae came back from the back, holding a pot of black coffee and two peachy-pink cups.

"Romy, when ya get a chance, tell that mamma 'a yours that she needs to pick up that dang phone! I gotta give that scoop on Old Man Harold!" Roman promised he would, telling the waitress that his mom was having troubles with her landline, but that he'd get a hold of her as soon as possible and drop a hint at calling her oldest friend.

They chatted a little bit longer, Chelsea scooping a spoon of sugar into her coffee. She felt that maybe the fact that Roman had brought her here meant something special. Like maybe she was something special, and this could actually go forward into an actual relationship. After all, Loretta Mae was pretty much his family. She couldn't see Roman being the type that just brought girls around, and if he was, she didn't think the old woman would have been surprised to see a woman opposite the boy she'd spent so much time with in his youth.

The pair chattered over waffles, with little interruption. They were excellent, with pecans, whole wheat, and powdered sugar. They'd put slices of pineapple on the tops. They were unlike any kind of waffle Chelsea had ever known, but they were amazing. Roman swore up and down that the recipe was Sweet Lou's own creation, and that he didn't know what made them so damn good. Chelsea didn't believe him for a second, but gave up trying to guess any secret ingredients.

After they'd finished, Roman had asked for the bill, but the nanny laughed. He shook his head, throwing a wad of cash on the table, giving the old woman a hug as he left.

"Romy, I like that one. Much nicer than that rat ya went and brought here last time. Be good to her, ya hear?"

Chelsea said goodbye to Loretta Mae, who pulled her in for a hug. "Don't go 'an break by boy's heart now," she said in a hushed voice. "I like yeh."

She couldn't help but let her mind wander, curious as to who else he'd brought home. Maybe there was a lot more, and that was just kind of his thing…perhaps, she wasn't anything special, but he was with her now out of pity…

_Negative Nancy._

* * *

As Roman pulled into the drive of a small house a few miles back from the restaurant, the curiosity finally got the best of Chelsea.

"So who else has met your nanny?" she asked, trying not to sound bitter. She tried her hardest not to be jealous, because it wasn't fair. Roman had shown her nothing but compassion so far, and she was trying to take a step forward with him. Why ruin something when it hasn't even started?

"Ah, I don't think you've met her. The only woman I've ever dated and worked with. Good lord, that was a shit relationship, though."

If that was supposed to make Chelsea feel any better, it didn't. It made her feel like this was doomed.

She didn't press for a name, because part of her didn't really want to know. At least, not yet; she figured it was still too early to over-think things, worry about whether she could keep Roman interested, and mentally compare herself to his previous girlfriends. Right now, she wanted to get to know Roman and only Roman...because otherwise, she was certain she'd get scared and run from what might be something good.

Besides, nothing in the WWE ever stayed a secret for very long.

"What happened?" she asked, but she regretted it immediately. She wasn't sure she'd like his answer. Romantically, she didn't know a thing about Roman, but if he was anything like Dean, the ending wasn't a nice one.

He opened his car door, stepping on to the gravel of the driveway. She started to do the same, but he looked at her with "that look," and she stopped, letting him open the door for her.

"We were just very young, and not ready for the commitment thing. Either of us," he tacked on the last little bit, as if she wouldn't pick up on it. "It wasn't a really big deal. It was a whopping three-month thing, the ink barely dry on our contracts. And it turned out, she wasn't the kind of person I could picture myself with in the long run."

They walked towards the home and Chelsea's mind was going wild with questions she didn't want to ask. Trying to push away the wonder over whether or not they'd slept together, talked about marriage, talked about living together, if his ex-girlfriend was mean, or sweet...she turned her attention to his house, which looked more like a place that a widow would have inhabited, rather than a rising star in the WWE. But that was why she liked Roman. He was humble, and wasn't big on appearances.

_That's why I'm standing here with him_, she thought. She wasn't normally critical of herself, but the ex-talk had gotten her adrenaline running.

He opened the door to his home, and the first thing she noticed was a large, black leather sofa. Gray and black artwork littered the walls, and a plush gray carpet sat beneath her toes. The only thing of color was a gorgeous candle sitting on the coffee table, one of the dripping candles that someone had taken a lot of time to carve. It was cherry red, and the obvious focal point of the living room.

"You're looking for someone long-term?" she finally asked, walking further into the living room. She was now questioning his motives. He wasn't very old, and though he was accomplishing a lot right now, he wasn't all the way there yet. "By the way, your house is beautiful."

"I'm not saying I want to run down to the courthouse and marry anyone," he was smiling now, walking towards the kitchen. "But I always thought, 'if it's not going to result in me wanting to spend my life with whoever, then what's the point'?"

She followed him into the kitchen, where he was pouring two glasses of juice. This room was just as nicely decorated, the stainless steel appliances demanding the attention. It looked like it was straight out of a Best Buy advertisement, the only thing that carried any sort of personalization was a save-the-date wedding paper stuck on the gleaming refrigerator.

"My cousin," he followed her gaze, pointing at the save-the-date. She took her glass of juice from his outstretched hand. "I guess their relationship is my inspiration. Until I find the right one, the best thing I can do is focus on climbing higher up the ladder."

He showed her around his home, finishing with the guest bedroom. It was decorated with brown and green, an odd color combination, but it worked. A bamboo plant sat near the window, and the dresser was made of wicker, giving an almost rustic appearance.

"If you want to go ahead and take a shower, I'll bring your things up," he told her, watching her flop down on the pale brown beadspread. It was supersoft, and she felt like taking a nap just like that.

"Thanks," she looked up at him from her position, letting her hair fan around her face.

"Stay there a second," he replied, snapping a picture with his cell phone.

"Asshole!" she sat up immediately. "I probably have chipmunk cheeks!" She grabbed for the sleek phone, but Roman put it above his head, and she flopped back down, giving a dramatic huff.

He slid his phone into his pocket, a territory Chelsea didn't dare to go.

"You looked fine," he told her. "Now go take a shower, stinky."

* * *

Roman toted Chelsea's duffel bag and his own into the house, her own bag probably double the size of his. For being an anti-diva, she still brought along a crapload of clothes. He still turned their conversation in his head over and over, like a CD that you had hoped had a hidden meaning in it.

Maybe bringing Chelsea here was a mistake. He knew that Loretta Mae would take to her right away—she liked most people. And Chelsea had that thing about her that was just likable and real. But perhaps it was way too soon in their friendship, relationship, whatever to bring her to his home. He threw her bag on her bed, straining his ears to understand the song she was singing. Her voice was melancholy, and actually pretty good. He recognized the tune, but couldn't quite name it. Still, it was enchanting...

_When you're too in love to let it go...  
_

_But if you never try, you'll never know..._

_Just what you're worth._

He closed his eyes, listening. Yeah, he was falling for this woman. Tripping all over, face-first. He was prepared to meet her demons, and help her put them in their cages. The kindest woman, aside from Loretta Mae, that he'd ever met. Her heart was on her sleeve, and she was spending hours and hours ensuring that she'd righted her wrongs by training and interviewing and fighting off the Natalya brood. He was sure as ever that she deserved to be happy.

He wandered into his own room, falling into the blue La-z-boy chair that he had pushed opposite of his bed. Sometimes, he didn't even sleep in his bed; his grandpa's old chair was worn in just the right way that when it reclined, he couldn't even tell the difference between that and a mattress. And sometimes, he could even catch a whiff of his grandpa's aftershave. Of all the items his gramps had left behind, this was all he'd wanted to keep. He remembered watching some old Hulk Hogan, Jake the Snake, and even Bret Hart matches with him on the very same chair, the pioneers who all encouraged him to follow his dream.

He sure did miss gramps.

He turned to his bed, the silvery blue sheen catching his eye. There was a lot more space in his bed than his chair, though. Roman shook his head, knowing he had to force thoughts of snuggling up to the woman in his house out of his head. The way she'd grabbed his hand in the car still warmed him. She was so unsure of herself, of what she really wanted. She was nervous, and she seemed so innocent. He couldn't be more surprised that she'd opened up to him, saying she was ready to fill him in. Why she held on to someone who used and abused her…and overall left her as a shell.

Still, he hoped he wasn't being too forward. Not to mention the heavy talking about his past relationship or his thoughts on marriage…that in combination with her own sad love story was a whole lot of baggage for two people to carry.

_Well, she does call me Superman…_

He looked at the picture of Chelsea that he'd snapped just moments before, feeling himself smile for maybe the hundredth time since he'd been with her today. She looked so peaceful, at ease. And they were both happy when they were together, that had to count for something. Early as it was, with a whole lot of the getting-to-know-you crap, he just yearned for just her company.

Because maybe she was just as lonely as he was, unlucky in the personal life and focusing on the life the fans saw. But it's so easy to forget...that life wasn't real.

He'd heard the shower shut off, then realized he was still staring at her picture. He quickly turned on his flat-screen TV, tuning in to whatever ESPN show was on. He looked at his alarm, just now realizing that almost a full hour had already passed. What the hell took women so long?

His answer was clear as she came down the stairs, her hair tied in a low ponytail. She wore a gray t-shirt and black skinny jeans, was barefoot, and had her eyes blacked behind thick-rimmed glasses. Normal as she was going to get, and that was fine. Except…

"Hey, your hair is red!" Roman couldn't hide the happiness in his voice, her hair now the same inky black, but with dark, blood-red tips. No more teal. Something about it gave a more grown-up appearance. And maybe it was his primal instincts calling, but the combination of red and black was sultry, sexy, and irresistible.

"It is," she said back, flipping her hair over a shoulder and admiring her work. "I wish I'd done it sooner. This is an awesome color," she flung her arms around Roman's neck, giving him a real hug. He inhaled her scent, a faint cinnamon sugar clinging to her skin.

"Thank you," she said into his chest. "I really, really needed that."

_No more waiting, Roman._

"Chelsea," he said to her, and she looked up at him, her eyes widening behind the nerdy frames.  
He bent down to her lips, feeling the softness of her skin pressed on his own. He looped a hand around her neck, pulling her in deeper. At first, he sensed a little resistance, but he took his free hand and put it on the small of her back, almost as if to hold her. Electricity buzzed between their bodies, and Roman's heart beat faster.

The two took a breath when they broke apart, and Chelsea bit her lip. He kept his hands on her, loving the way her soft skin felt, and wishing he could stop time. They kept their heads together, and Roman snuck a quick kiss on her lips to finish it off. For now.

"Thank you," he told her, his voice gravelly. "I really, really needed that."

* * *

**Yeah! Finally! So...how will the rest of the time together play out? Who's Ro's mystery ex? What was going on with Dean? And, what does Natalya's brood have in store for Chelsea? So many questions! **


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Wow! Thanks for the reviews on that last chapters. So much love! It's ok, I don't mind ;) I love reading reviews just as much as writing this! So many questions right now… also, I guess FF doesn't let you put an "at" symbol, so the "at" symbol is replaced by a /. Sorry!**

* * *

Chelsea couldn't get comfortable. No matter what position she was lying in, her mind was racing a thousand miles per minute. All she could think about was Roman, and how she wished she could be with him, even though he was only straight across the room. But she wanted to keep going the speed they were going: nice and slow. After all, the way her relationshit—er, ship, went with Jeff, they'd slept together drunkenly within a month.

She still held some regret. No, actually, she really regretted that.

She'd wished she could erase being sexually linked to Jeff. She knew that he had such a huge piece of her now, that Chelsea was afraid she wouldn't feel the same with anyone else. Even though Jeff had always told her she was psychotic, and treated her so badly, she did realize now that her abnormal, so-called "psychotic" tendencies was just a reaction to a truly abnormal amount of bullshit. After all, he'd always kept her on the side, despite the fact that he claimed to be in love. Karma was a bitch, though, and one day it'd come bite him in the ass. He always told her that she wouldn't make it without him guiding her, and she could bet that his head was a real mess. Hers wasn't; hers was clear as a summer sky. Right now, she was focused. Although she never expected to start falling for someone again-especially not a wrestler-she was glad that she was.

Roman and Chelsea had watched some awful horror movie on Netflix together after that…moment they shared. They'd snuggled on the couch, his arm snaked around her like she was his girl. She almost got too comfortable, and began to doze off. Even though they were molded together on his little couch, they made it work, and their bodies formed together in a perfect, lovely mess. He had run his fingers through the red part of hair numerous times, like he still couldn't believe she'd actually outed a stupid, childish link to Jeff Hardy.

After the movie, they'd made dinner together. Since they'd had waffles mid-afternoon, they ended up grilling some chicken breast, and Chelsea sizzled some balsamic dressing and cut up some roma tomatoes, rolling them in parmesan and oregano. The end product was phenomenal, a light but delicious meal. Plus, the whole time they'd flirted like kids, getting into some kind of a rhythm as they'd cooked. She wondered briefly if things would be that simple all the time, and especially if they'd ever decided to move in together.

But it was way too early to think about that nonsense.

Now, she was alone, tossing and turning. She'd tried to relax by reading some more of _Divergent,_ but as the main character Tris's love story progressed, Chelsea kept considering her own, over thinking, worrying, and feeling lonely.

Finally, she gave up, and got up to turn on the little TV in her guest room. She hoped that maybe she'd get lucky and something besides infomercials would be on. It was already midnight, though, and the chances were slim,

Three thousand channels later, she bumped into something she hadn't watched, but wanted to…if only even slightly, and not that she'd ever admit it.

Total Diva's was having a marathon on the E! network. She had no choice now…

So she began watching. And she couldn't stop. What was she up against here? Summer Rae was just as much a bitch in person as on the show, and it looked like the other women hated her just as much.

She cried during the union of Natalie and Ty, something she wouldn't given her left arm to see in person. Chelsea couldn't help but feel heartbroken all over again as her ex-friend vowed to love the man she'd been with for freaking ever. She could only hope she would get as lucky in love as any of the women, actually. They were all so happy, and with the exception of John Cena being kind of a douchebag, all of the cast seemed to be happy.

So how can you attack someone that is on top of the world? How could she play being an anti-diva when the Total Divas were doing so well for themselves? She contemplated telling Stephanie that she wasn't sure this was the right direction. Maybe she could still feud with Natalie, since that had already been a clear indication towards the fans that the two women despised each other.

But then she saw it. A short conversation between Naomi and Natalie, barely even noticeable. But it was there.

"_Did ya'll have to take a drug test today?" Naomi had asked Natalie, Cameron sitting nearby._

"_Nah, not me," the mocha-skinned woman answered. Natalie shook her head, too._

"_What the…really? Just me?"_

_Natalie snorted. "Didn't you guys hear? The reason they enforced the random drug test rule just signed back onto the roster. Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll get tested right away. I wouldn't be mad if she disappeared again."_

Even though her former friend didn't name any names, anyone who knew anything about the Divas division knew that it was a direct insult towards Chelsea. Nat had said it so quietly that the camera had barely caught the audible, but there it was, plain as day.

While neither of the other women responded the way Natalie had probably hoped, it was a new game now. Nobody had bothered to say a word to Nat, telling her to quit being a bully. Even though the only person that she had a real problem with was smiling her perfect smile on the flatscreen, Chelsea was ready for an all-out battle.

Her adrenaline was pumping like crazy now, and sleep wasn't in the near future. Seriously, what the hell was Nat's problem with her? She did believe it had something to do with her old habit, but wouldn't a real friend be trying to pull her out of it back then, later congratulating her for being clean and sober? Instead, she'd done nothing for Chelsea, just attacking her, making snide comments for the world to hear, humiliating her during Smackdown's tapings. This was getting out of hand, and Chelsea knew it wasn't a wonderfully written storyline by the creative team, because there's no way they could come up with something that good. Not to mention, they would have never approved her lashing out. She knew they'd delete that scene for the final show, but still...

Well, shit, now it was her turn to make the world hear her words. Turning her phone back on, she logged on to her WWE authenticated Twitter account for the first time in…what, six months? A year? She wasn't sure. She went into hiding after being sent away, embarrassed to have let down her friends, family, career, herself, and especially her fans. She had a disgusting amount of notifications, and she never really responded to them before. Not to mention, she didn't really care. A bunch were probably hate messages, and she was in no position to read those. Jeff had always told her she was over-sensitive, and she probably was. People were mean and brutal online, calling superstars and divas alike on any flaw they might have, even when they didn't realize they had it.

**/TotalDivas /NatByNature: How does this show have any watchers? Should be called Nat whines when things don't go her way. #SweetFace**

**/WWEChelseaSweetly /TotalDivas: Love it or hate it, I'm BACK to take on the ones who think they own the world…#SweetFace #MondayNightRaw**

That was good enough. She found AJ's account (after sorting through a load of fakes), Tamina's account, The Shield's, Seth's…and started following them all. She never really understood the point of Twitter, it just seemed like an easy way to start drama. But the WWE was thriving on it, so she did have one, despite the stupidity. They used it for storylines to seem more real, and for fans to better connect with their favorite stars. Right now, she was going to use it to progress her own rivalries, making them more believable and ultimately, gain support from fans and management alike. She tweeted Summer Rae, telling her to make sure her fake hair matched her real hair. She'd tweeted Eva Marie, who she had no real problem with, but instead of bashing her, asked why she let Nat always steal her shine.

She didn't, however, tweet Naomi or Cameron because she had no reason to attack them, and she wanted to maintain peace. Especially if she was going to date Roman, if that's where this was headed.

Taking a deep breath, she suddenly realized she was exhausted. Putting her phone down and relaxing into the overstuffed pillow, Chelsea finally willed herself to sleep.

Sweet dreams.

* * *

Roman woke up to the annoying buzz of his phone. Groaning, he checked his LCD alarm's time—6 a.m. Really? His alarm wasn't supposed to go off for another hour!

But, then he realized it wasn't his alarm going off on his cell phone. Someone was calling him.

Without checking who was calling, Roman groggily answered.

"Ro? What the fuck you doing?" It was Jimmy.

"I was sleeping, dude. What the fuck are you doing?"

"Calling for a fair warning. Dude, a few of the girls are pissed as fuck. Looks like Chelsea re-activated her Twitter account and started attacking Nat. She should've just let it go, man. Nothing works better than ignoring the hate."

Roman tried to rack his brain, certain that he had never told Jimmy he was bringing Chelsea to his Miami home. Not that that fact mattered right now. Right now he had to wrap his brain around waking up to the news that Chelsea had created more enemies in just a few hours. He knew there was some serious beef between Chelsea and Natalie, obviously. But it was odd that she'd go on Twitter at all, let alone play a leading role in _Mean Girls._ H_e _really didn't think that was her thing, and was disappointed that she'd let the former Divas champion get to her like that.

But why did Jimmy say girls, plural? Roman didn't think Natalie had that great of persuasion to turn the other castmates into brainless sheep. She had some sort of authority within that group, though, and that made it plausible.

"She only attacked Nat?" he asked, stretching in his bed.

"Yeah, it seems like it…no wait, looks like Summer, too," Roman heard Jimmy clicking around, indicating he was reading the Twitter posts on his laptop.

"Then I guess I don't really see the problem. Chels is a big girl, and she can pick fights and finish them as she pleases. She didn't go after your girl because she doesn't have a problem with her…" he tried to sound convincing and supportive, and hoped that Jimmy could talk to Naomi a little, to make it known that the real and only problem was Nat.

"But dude, I'm telling you, you gotta be wary of your girl, too!" Jimmy's voice was raised, but still somewhat hushed. "I don't know what she did to Nat, but whatever it is, it's making her crazy. I don't think Naomi or Cam care, and I'll talk to them, but Summer and Nat are like, _talking_. That's not good, bro."

How the hell did Jimmy know he had any interest in Chelsea at all? But he already knew the answer….Seth. Seth had a big mouth and probably ran it to his cousin the previous day. But Roman wasn't ready for any rumors to circulate of them dating backstage. Were they even dating? He didn't think so. Not yet, anyways. But back to the main point. It was known fact that Summer Rae and Natalie loathed each other, and if they were bonding over hating Chelsea, then there might be a problem.

"I'll talk to Chelsea. And Cuz?"

"Yep?"

"Did Seth tell you I was with her?"

"Yep."

"I'm going to kill him. Don't tell anyone. Not yet, anyways. We're barely getting to know each other. And I know she's not ready to tell the world."

Jimmy agreed. "Just be careful, Ro. You know who she used to kick it with."

The two men hung up, one of the longest conversations they'd had on the phone in a long while. The last conversation of this length was when Jimmy had told him he planned on marrying Naomi. He vaguely remembered the conversation as a whole, but remembered that he had been slightly envious that Jimmy was so sure he'd met his soul mate. Roman had just ended things with Alicia Fox for good, knowing that they were completely incompatible and on totally different levels as far as their careers went.

Sometimes he still thought about Alicia. He saw her backstage from time to time, though she didn't wrestle regularly and still did a lot of modeling. He'd wondered how she was doing, and even though seeing her was tough at first, eventually he just didn't care anymore. They'd ended for a reason, and his Gramps always told him not to constantly re-read a book when you know how it ends already. Besides, Roman had heard that she started seeing some guy who wrestled for the Ring of Honor, to which he could only shake his head and wish the guy luck. That woman was a damn hurricane.

But, on the other hand, Chelsea was a hurricane, too. Only difference was, he had never been so captivated by a woman before. She had something special about her, and was just…different than any woman he'd ever met. Alicia had always acted like the world owed her something, and that her life was so terribly rough even though she was brought up with both parents, good money, good looks, and a career that took off when she was only fifteen. Chelsea didn't act like the world owed her anything, even though it seemed like her life was a jumbled mess. Still, it was admirable that she owned up to her mistakes, and focused on getting to be a better version of herself every day. Despite Jimmy's little warning, he knew that she was a keeper, and that Chelsea was more than what she used to be.

She was a keeper.

Roman decided to start moving now, getting up slowly as to not strain his already damaged shoulder. It had been getting progressively worse, and it was beginning to make him nervous. He couldn't afford to be sidelined with an injury, and especially not right now. Not when him and his guys were getting a huge push, with an eventual turn to be faces coming up. Roman hadn't been sure where their stories were going, always a hint of a break-up between the trio embedded in the shows every week. But they never did.

He walked past Chelsea's room, poked his head in, and saw that she was on her stomach, fast asleep. Her phone, some book, and her nerdy glasses were beside her, and her TV was still on.

Total Divas was playing. He cursed himself for thinking she'd have no interest in seeing it, but of course she did. She knew she was up against some huge players, and after he'd stupidly mentioned Natalie's wedding was featured on the show, he should've known she'd want to see that. Judging by the crumpled, blacked tissue she was still holding on to, she had cried.

He got curious, and checked to see what was on previously. And before that. It had been running since about midnight. Roman now had no doubt that she'd seen everything, and heard whatever comment Natalie had made about her. It was no wonder she'd lashed out on Twitter...surely, whatever was said had gotten her where it hurt. Regardless, publicly attacking the E! stars was opening a whole new can of worms, and she had to be careful. There were tons of people who idolized the featured women, and seeing someone take shots at them might spell trouble.

He let her sleep, turning off the television. He'd decided to go for a run; maybe that would clear his head a little bit. He really wanted to do something fun with Chelsea today before hitting the road some time tomorrow, perhaps solidify where their relationship stood. For all he knew, he'd scared her off yesterday. They had totally avoided the fact that they had this time-stopping, earth-shattering kiss. It was like it didn't happen at all.

* * *

Chelsea woke up, amazed to see she was wide awake despite having gone to bed about four hours ago. At first, she was feeling relaxed, but then…ugh, she thought of Natalie and her stupid face. She didn't bother checking Twitter, even though the icon showed she had new notifications. Like, 128 of them.

Instead, she shot a quick text to AJ, wishing her well and hoping to see her Sunday night. Although she enjoyed spending time with Roman, she couldn't help but wish she had a little more girl-time in her life. Though she never got along as well with women, her friendship with AJ seemed to be exactly what she'd always wished she had. Simple, fun, and drama-free. Chelsea didn't expect an answer from her since she was probably enjoying her time with her brooding beau.

Speaking of, she wondered if Roman was still sleeping. Checking herself in the mirror, she poked her head into Roman's room and was sadly disappointed. He wasn't in there, and his bed was made already. She walked in anyways, looking at the assortment of photographs he had lined on his dresser. There were lots of him and his cousins, and she noticed another that looked like him and his mom. She saw Loretta Mae and Sweet Lou standing outside of that awful diner, though in this picture, everything looked fresh and new, Loretta still clad in the same pink polo.

She also saw Roman with an older guy, who she assumed was his grandpa. He was in a wheelchair, a huge "80th" birthday cake laying across his lap, and a younger Roman smiling next to him, giving a thumbs-up.

There was the Shield, acting goofy at some restaurant. Dean had his tongue poking out, Seth had given himself a pig nose, and Roman had his ears pulled out like a monkey. Stifling a giggle, she was happy to notice that there were no photos of whoever his ex-girlfriend was.

She went to see if Roman was downstairs, and he wasn't. She figured he'd gone out to the store, but his car was in the drive yet. He was probably maintaining his physique, in that case. Going for a run or something.

She should, too. Dean would probably kick her ass if he knew she'd skipped a day. But…she had a better idea. And it totally counted as a cardio workout. Besides, she deserved to get out for a little while, relax a little before Natalie decided to deem Chelsea a social leper, or damn her to her own personal hell. Or both.

She quickly pulled herself together, doing her makeup for the day, curling her hair, and spritzing herself with her cinnamon-scent. She tugged on a pair of jean shorts, a navy blue tank top, and a black cropped hoodie. as casual as ever. Whatever, even if anyone snapped a picture of her roaming the streets, at least she didn't look disgusting.

She pulled out a marker that she used to use to sign autographs with from the deepest part of her duffel, amazed she even had it in there yet. She hoped that soon she'd be able to use it again and possibly begin some sort of fan base. She scribbled a quick note to Roman, grabbed her sling purse and walked out to the porch, glad to see the sunny Florida sky.

With a deep breath, she walked back towards the main street they'd came from the day before.

* * *

Roman came back in, dripping with sweat. He had to admit, though, he felt a thousand times better. His mind was clear, and he was looking forward to seeing Chelsea again. He checked his phone—it was only ten. He'd gone for his run, stopping at one of the parks nearby and did some core workouts, too. It was beautiful outside—he hadn't had the capability of working out anywhere besides a gym in quite awhile. There was something peaceful about being outdoors, with the wind blowing on his hot flesh, the trees whistling, the sun beaming through the palm trees. He missed being home.

Roman also re-confirmed that he wasn't disappointed in Chelsea anymore. He should've told her that Natalie said something to begin with, as soon as he'd heard. Though he wasn't one for rumors, Roman wanted Chelsea to trust him, and it was his responsibility to protect her from getting hurt. She'd had enough hurt in her life already, anyways.

But when he checked to see if his girl was up, she wasn't in her room. He felt a lump in his throat. She'd scribbled a note and left it on her perfectly made-up bed, her girly scrawl in black Sharpie.

_**Ro-**_

_**Later.**_

_**XoXo,**_

_**CS.**_

The words burned his eyes, and he started getting nervous. He knew he'd scare her off with all that couple-y stuff they'd done together. She probably wasn't ready for it…after all, they hadn't known each other for a very long time. Perhaps he had misinterpreted what she'd wanted after all, and she hightailed to the nearest hotel while he was gone. He grew frustrated, his own heart heavy. How could he be so stupid? A girl with that much damage needed to be eased into a relationship. Even though he thought he was going a steady pace with her, he was clearly wrong.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that her duffel was still tucked away under her bed, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank goodness she hadn't run from him! He wanted to kick himself now. At least she felt the same way he did, then. He had to force himself to stop believing that she'd run at any given minute, because if he thought that, he'd end up pushing her too far himself. He didn't want to ruin the start of something amazing by negativity.

But, just the word 'later'? What did that even mean? Not entirely descriptive. He'd hoped she wasn't out long, wherever she decided to wander to. He supposed she didn't want to be found, and would come back when she felt like it. After all, with the finding of those dumb episodes on the TV last night, she was likely in a horrible mood and wanted to go about in her own way. He had no choice but to respect that, but wished she would come to him when she was feeling down. Maybe that wasn't her thing...she wasn't one to search for attention, even if he was willing to give it to her. Roman sighed, making his way to the shower.

* * *

Chelsea came back around noon, carrying a total of six bags. She found Roman in the living room, watching basketball. She gave him a big smile, trying not to keep her eyes locked on the gray t-shirt that seemed to cling to his chest muscles.

_Holy shit._

"Hey, you," he said, motioning for her to sit next to him. "I was wondering if I'd ever see you again."

Chelsea laughed, letting all her bags fall next to the couch. She curled up next to him, letting him put his arm around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head, which made her giggle.

"I didn't go far. I just saw a shop that I really wanted to check out when we drove in, so I walked down there. I figured that Dean would be mad if I skipped a day of training, so I did it my own way."

Roman quirked an eyebrow at her, shaking his head. "How in the world is shopping considered a workout routine?"

She gave him that sweet little smile of hers, then said, "Well, I walked a bunch. Had to avoid other shoppers, carried around heavy bags, had to try stuff on…"

Roman rolled his eyes. "I don't think Dean would approve of that. But just in case he asks, I had you do some conditioning while you were here. Now, tell me what you ended up buying."

"Way too much," she admitted. She bought a black and gray maxi skirt, new earrings, new silver bangle bracelets, a cool black cut-out t-shirt, some dark gray armwarmers, a handful of colored tanks, a really cool sweater that was tied together at the shoulders, and some awesome ass-kicking boots.

She chose the boots to show Ro, pulling them on to show how high they went up.

Roman grinned. "I thought you'd never ditch the flippies," he said to her, her black sandals kicked aside.

"Oh, don't worry, they aren't going anywhere," she said back to him. She looked back up at him peeking at him through her eyelashes. "Neither am I," she added quietly, not sure if he could hear.

"And neither am I," he said back, letting his lips brush hers. "Would you like to do something together on this beautiful afternoon?" he asked, taking her hand in his.

"I would love to," she said back, squeezing his hand. "But first…" she looked him in the eye, putting a finger to her lips almost seductively. She gave him that look that she hoped was smoldering, as though she wanted to jump his bones right then and there.

"First what?" Roman fidgeted, and Chelsea knew the damage was done. She stroked his strong jawbone with her thumb, getting close enough to kiss him. He started to bend down when she suddenly pulled away, knowing full-well how much of a tease she was being.

"We have a challenge. No wait—a duel!" she clenched her fist, raising it in the air, changing the tone of the whole conversation completely. Roman groaned, laughing as he pulled further away from Chelsea, who still wore her new boots. Though an odd pairing with her outfit, she knew that the knee-high lace boots made her legs look killer, and hoped that might cause a minor distraction. She had a video game queen reputation to withhold, and she wasn't about to admit to Seth in a few days she let Roman stomp her out of her title.

"Ah, yes, we do," he said back, getting up to turn on the PlayStation 3. He handed her a controller. "Game on," he said, setting up WWE 2K14.

"May the best man win," she commented, scrolling through the list of the stars. This time, she chose Dean Ambrose. Roman shook his head, as if he thought it was funny she'd chosen his best friend and her trainer. In a way, she wondered if Dean could out-do Superman on the video game. Dean was all technical, and Ro was all power. In a real duel, what would actually win?

"Of course he will," Roman said smugly.

"You forgot, you lost last time."

"No, I remember. I just think you got lucky."

Chelsea laughed, scrolling through the superstars.

"We'll see about that, Roman Reigns. We'll see."

"Yes, we will, Chelsea Sweetly," he mocked her voice, using an over-enthusiastic falsetto, selecting himself on the video game.

For just a moment, Chelsea closed her eyes, letting herself be happy. For the first time ever, it wasn't Jeff's face she saw in her mind. With Jeff, there was nothing to see anymore.


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Nice! Okay, so I've been nonstop thinking about this story, and I've finished the outline officially. I apologize for this chapter, I feel like it's a filler but necessary because it gives Roman a little bit more clarity. Anyways…all the love in the world to you guys! Keep on reviewing, they make me (and Chelsea Sweetly) smile!**

* * *

_Roman lay next to her in the guest bed, his bare chest gleaming from the little peek of moonlight in the window. He was stroking her stomach, his index finger tracing the scar that was a horrible memory and reminder of Jeff. His hand began to trail downward, and she began to wiggle, getting nervous with every centimeter his finger moved._

"_Roman," she breathed huskily, but he wasn't listening. He began to rub the inside of her thigh, and she gasped as his fingers found their way underneath the lace of her boyshort panties._

"_Roman…please…" but she had to admit, she longed for him to keep going. She hadn't been romantic with anyone since Jeff managed to destroy her. And the way things had been going with Roman, she was certain that he was the only one she'd ever consider being in with this dilemma again. _

_The tension between them had been apparent the rest of the day, and even she knew that a lot of it had to do with her almost, kind of, sort of coming on to him before they played a mini-tournament of his video game. _

_They'd managed to go out to dinner, and his jaw twitched when he saw her in her new skirt. Paired with a low-cut shirt, she was a force to reckon with, and she knew it. She had laughed at his reaction and said, "Yes, Ro, I really AM a girl." _

_The dinner was wonderful, very intimate, at one of the bistros downtown. She had an excellent grilled shrimp and spinach salad along with a ciabatta roll. Roman downed almost an entire porthouse steak, baby red potatoes and corn to follow. The décor set the mood between the two, and the whole while, Chelsea knew it was going to lead up to something more. The mood lighting, the candles, the light touching but heavy flirting combination…_

_She groaned as Roman began to rub her, getting closer and closer to her sensitive folds. She tilted her head back, slightly parting her legs so he could get better access. He brought his face to her face, kissed somewhere near her ear, and buried his head into her hair._

_He rubbed harder, and she was breathing heavily now, getting anxious for him to introduce a finger to her personal territory._

_But he didn't stop rubbing, and it began to hurt. Wincing, she tried to knock away his hand, but he grabbed hold of her wrist, slamming it down on to the mattress._

"_Roman, stop!" she cried out, and opened her eyes. Those appalling, haunting green eyes stared back at her, a sinister smile spread on his lips. _

"_What's the matter, Chels? Don't you miss me?" Jeff asked her, his hand still holding her down. She tried to kick him off, but he had such a good grasp on her…_

* * *

"Chelsea? Hey!"

She woke up, Roman's sleepy eyes near the top of her head. She was confused for a moment, scared shitless, and wanted to fling herself into his arms. Naturally, Jeff would ruin a perfect dream.

"Bad dream," she said groggily, trying to move. She had managed to wrap herself in her bed sheet, making it near impossible to move around. She gingerly began to remove it from her legs, and Roman shook his head with a tiny smile.

"I'd say so. What was it about? Was Natalie trying to turn you into a mummy?"

Chelsea smirked, freeing her ankle from the tightly wound sheet. She stood up, her legs still shaking from the fear instilled. She'd never been more grateful that it was Roman who stood before her, not the asshole from the past.

"I wish. It was about you, at first," she told him, leaving her room. It was just after 3 a.m., and she was completely mortified that her night terrors had woken up yet another person. Eventually, nobody would want to sleep in the same place as her, because her loud whimpering and crying would wake up every nearby room.

She made her way to get a glass of water, hoping to break down the dry feeling in her throat. It almost felt as though she swallowed a handful of hay, then chased it with some gravel for good measure. Roman stood behind her as she downed her first glass, then crossed his arms across his chest as she went for the second.

"I hope it wasn't about me. I don't think that's a very good thing if I was the subject matter of your nightmares," he eyed her suspiciously, and she sat at one of the barstools that was pushed into the countertop island.

She sighed, pulling her hair over her eyes. "It was about you, and then you turned into a monster," she said finally, knowing how stupid it sounded. But that was as close as she wanted to get to the truth. She really didn't want to ruin everything that had been going so smoothly with her stupid dream.

That dinner with Roman had been unbelievably pleasant, and afterwards, they'd gone for a long drive, finally making their way to South Beach. They'd walked along the shore, Chelsea picking up a few seashells here and there along the say. She let her feet dig into the wet sand, a gross but oddly liberating, and carried her flip-flops at her side, letting the cool wind blow her hair and skirt. She felt like she was dreaming, because the scene was breathtakingly beautiful. She had turned to Roman to comment on the moon casting a glow on the water, but realized that Roman wasn't looking at the landscape. His eyes were only focused on her.

They'd continued on the walk along the shoreline, and she listened to Roman talk about his family, how much he missed his mom, but how supportive she was of him. She listened to him talk about his Gramps, who he so very much looked up to. He'd told her about some of the traveling he'd done, about how much Dean had changed since they'd first met, and how much he idolized Seth for seeing the good in almost all situations. He'd commented that he felt like he was only rambling, but Chelsea told him she didn't mind. Roman then bent down and picked up a tiny pearl that an oyster had spit out, pocketing it himself. "I collect things from the beach," he said simply after she'd shot him an inquisitive look.

They'd looked up at the stars, and she'd pointed out to him Cassiopeia and Taurus the bull in the constellations. Amazed by her beauty, simplicity, and knowledge, he'd asked very gentleman-like if he could kiss her.

And kiss her, he did. They stood like that under the stars, exploring each other's mouths, letting their hands roam, and listening to dolphins singing softly in the background. Chelsea really didn't think it could get much better, and wished their mini vacation could last another week. She wasn't mentally prepared to face Natalie or her cronies, and would rather just live on the beach with Roman for the rest of her life.

"Chelsea, I don't want to be too forward, but I really enjoy spending time with you," his eyes shone into hers, and her heart was racing all over again. "I really would love to be with you."

"You are with me," she said quietly, bending her head down and lowering her eyes to her bare feet. He had tilted her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact.

"I mean, really be with you. I want you to be my girl. I don't really care who did what or when. I care about you."

If it were possible for a moment to freeze in time, it was at that very second. Every tear she'd wasted, every hour she'd longed to be loved, every kiss she missed out on, and every "I love you," she never heard…it didn't matter anymore. She'd given up chasing the wrong thing and finally given the right one a chance to catch up to her.

The night had been wonderful, but now, Roman was watching her, concern in his face after she'd set down her empty glass. She cleared her throat in a terrible and weak attempt to clear the awkward tension.

"And what was that monster's name?" Roman pulled her out of her thoughts as he slid next to her on his own bar stool.

"Didn't have one," she lied, and she already knew that Roman didn't believe that.

He gave her the look, and she sighed. Busted.

"You turned into Jeff," she admitted.

He nodded, like he had known all along. She was ready for him to say that he didn't think this relationship was going to work after all, that he was too far over his head. She couldn't blame him, because as much as she knew she wanted to be done with Jeff Hardy and all the heartache and turmoil he'd caused in her life, he still crept in the deepest, darkest shadows of her subconscious. Like some kind of mischievous fiend, waiting to catch her at her happiest moments and take those away from her, too.

But Roman didn't throw his hands up in defeat. Instead, he motioned towards the living room. She got up, following him to the couch, and sat on the opposite end.

"Do you want to talk about him?" Roman asked after a long pause. "I know it's hard. And I am so sorry for asking you to. But I think it might help me understand, and help you be more at ease. I want to make this work, Chelsea."

"What if you don't like what I have to say?" she asked, playing with the ends of her hair nervously.

"I'm not going anywhere. Have a little faith. A good man once said, 'Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase.'"

She looked at him, her blue eyes locking into his grays.

"Was it your grandpa?" she asked.

He smiled. "No, actually. He was a good man, too, but Martin Luther King was the right answer there." He moved closer to her, closing the gap she'd intentionally left between them.

"You don't have to tell me everything tonight. I don't expect you to. A small piece at a time is fine by me."

Chelsea sighed again, feeling like a rock had just plummeted into her stomach.

She started with the dreams she'd had, about how Roman and Jeff had turned into one another. How at first she thought it was odd to be dreaming about Roman at all, but quickly realized it was because he was all she thought about during the day.

Chelsea told him about the first time Jeff had given her cocaine, and how he had mesmerized her by giving her attention. How at first, he'd seemed like he was trying to take away her physical pain away, sliding drugs her way to make her feel like she could achieve anything. She told him that she knew that it was someone on the roster that was selling to Jeff, but she never knew who it was, but wanted to kill whoever would intentionally provide to Jeff knowing full-well the kinds of things he did. She told him about the shots of whiskey she'd take to forget about the mental torture she was going through, about the Adderall that he would give her in exchange for a quick fuck in whatever deserted hallway they could find.

She told him about the time she'd read his text messages from his girlfriend, and he ended up giving her stitches. She couldn't look him in the eyes during that one, shamefully admitting that he had raped her but was too fucked up to really care.

He listened to her talk, and his eyes seemed to hold her pain in them, too. She really didn't want to burden him with all the gloomy stories and startling memories she kept in her own lockbox, but talking about it was helping. Chelsea could see now more than ever that even though she pretended to be on her A-game, she was constantly letting fear run her life. Just as Roman had said before, she still let Jeff ultimately rule her thoughts. After all, she hadn't tried to move on or date at all yet. But in her heart, she knew it was time, and finally she was going to face her demons, with her own Superman by her side. She imagined walking into the darkness in her head that Jeff still owned, and shining a flashlight on him. Time to banish and conquer.

* * *

Roman couldn't believe the amount of crap Jeff Hardy had put this girl through. He could tell she tried watering it down a lot, for fear of him judging her. But from what he gathered, the only fault that she carried was not knowing when or how to walk away. It seemed like he was abusive in every form possible, using her own emotions as his secret weapon.

When she'd told him a tiny bit about the first time they'd slept together, it clicked. He understood completely why she had been hung up on this dumbass for so long.

"I remember waking up the next morning in so much pain. I had spins, and I immediately ran to the bathroom, afraid I was going to puke all over Jeff. I don't remember a whole lot, but I wanted to set our relationship in stone, and being stupid and naïve, I slept with him.

"I should've known that even though I gave him that piece of me I could never get back, he'd never leave his girlfriend to be with me. They'd been together for so long, and I doubt I was the only girl he'd put on the sideline. All that time we spent together, I'd profess my undying love for him, and he'd just sit there. I knew he didn't care, no matter how badly I wanted him to. He just wanted someone, and it didn't matter if it was me or not. He'd be willing to fill the empty space in his heart where he kept his girlfriend with _anyone_ when he couldn't be with her. Oh, I'd hear stories backstage all the time. I remember, even Matt—his own brother! Was getting worried that Jeff was weaseling his way into his relationship with Amy. I just ignored it all, because I hoped that it wasn't true, and that he wasn't as terrible a person as he was beginning to be."

Chelsea began to pull a loose thread from the hem of her flannel shorts, and Roman kept his eyes on her.

"Anyways, when I woke up, I prayed it was all a dream. I never wanted to do something like that just for the sake of keeping someone around. I wanted to be with someone who wanted to be with me, because of me. Not because I put out, not because I was easy to manipulate, and not because I was a pretty face. But when I came back to the bed after I'd puked my guts out from all that damn liquor, I saw all the blood, and I knew that it wasn't a dream. I'd let him have that piece of me…and I'd never get it back." She was crying now, and Roman watched as she flicked a tear away. He pulled her close, letting her sob into his chest.

Even though Roman had lost his virginity when he was only sixteen, he did remember that he was crushed when he'd broken up with his high school sweetheart. He felt terrible for Chelsea, and he knew now that it wasn't just Jeff that she had to learn to forgive, but herself. He understood how much she regretted her relationship with Hardy now, because she hadn't come to terms with her actions.

Jeff Hardy had not only abused this woman, but ripped away a piece of her trust every time he'd climbed into bed with her. Or hallway. Or bathroom.

Still holding Chelsea, he began to stroke her hair, feeling her begin to relax.

"Shitty people do shitty things," he told her. "What Jeff did to you was disgusting, and the way he treated you was even worse than that. The best thing I can tell you is that he is the one who will be sleeping with those ghosts at his bedside. That's a heavy weight on his mind, and I can guarantee that. You are stronger, better, smarter, and much more beautiful of a person than Jeff is. And I understand how hard this is, but I want nothing more than to be a part of your life now, that you've created by yourself, for yourself."

Chelsea laid back into Roman's chest, relaxing against him. "I will never understand why the good people in the world go through the most emotional trauma," she said, letting Roman envelope her into his chest, his arms pulling her as close as she could be.

"Because they've got the most open hearts, and believe that everyone else is a good person, too," he stroked her hair again, lost in thought. It was true, too. Maybe she still had adolescent beliefs about love, but in a sense, it was a very pure thing. While people flung around the word "love" like high-fives, Chelsea still believed in the sentiment behind the word, in an almost hopeless romantic sense. Yet, if more people considered love to be a whole separate class than sex, marriage, or money, there would probably be a lot more happy people in the world.

Yes, Chelsea was going to be a journey for him. But he was a strong believer in true love, alongside the idea that the more you got to know someone, the more remarkable they became. Sure, the mystery behind Chelsea and her deep, dark secrets was slowly being scraped away, but now he could see deeper, and felt that in an astonishing way, he'd connected with her. Connected with her in such a way that he didn't even believe possible. She'd opened up and trusted him with bits of her story, and now that they'd shared these small, memorable moments together, he already knew that she was becoming a piece of him.

With Chelsea, patience was going to be the key to success, and Roman knew that.

He closed his eyes, feeling her heart beat, and listened to her breathing. She took slow, shallow breaths, and he knew that she'd fallen asleep.

He kissed the top of her head, letting his body relax on the plush couch. "I know this is way too early to tell you when you're awake, Chelsea. But I think I'm falling in love with you," he whispered.

His admittance clung to the silent air, but he didn't mind. One day, Chelsea would know how great his feelings were for her.

One day.


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Definitely didn't expect to get the love that I got for what I thought was a filler chapter! You guys are cool, don't stop reviewin'.**

* * *

"Chelsea, thank you for coming to speak with me today," the billion-dollar princess opened the door to a makeshift office, welcoming the raven-haired diva inside.

As if she had a choice.

Chelsea was nervous, unsure about what the big deal was. When Stephanie had left a message on her cell phone that she needed a moment to speak with her, her heart plummeted to her knees. Either it was good news, or terrible…and if Chelsea had to guess, it was probably the latter; she'd heard from Tamina a few nights ago that the Total Divas were less than thrilled with her social media slams, and Summer Rae had marched into Stephanie's office, demanding some kind of action be taken.

A full week had passed since Natalie intentionally bombed their interview, and now, they were just hours away from the new Smackdown taping. A full week since Chelsea took matters into her own hands and called out Eva Marie, Summer Rae, and of course, Natalya.

A full week, and full of amazing moments. Before Chelsea and Roman got back on the road, he'd taken her to see Loretta Mae once more, gone to a nearby habitat park—which housed wild flamingos; played at an arcade, won 3,000 tickets, and gave them away to the happiest little kid of the year. Chelsea had signed her first autograph in months when the lucky kid's parents recognized her, and it was hard not to feel awestruck. After all, it was her they'd recognized first, not Roman. Of course they would recognize him later, but signing "XOXO, CHELSEA SWEETLY" on the napkin in Sharpie gave her the kind of buzz that she had been longing for.

The new couple spent most the ride to Georgia continuing to get to know petty things about each other (Chelsea's full name was Chelsea Austen Schwedt, named after Jane Austen herself), arguing over what music they should listen to (Not Chelsea's, because Roman said it was too scream-y), and discussing which chain restaurant was the best (Wendy's won, Qdoba a close second). They'd arrived in Georgia the following day, staying in a tiny, one-bed hotel room. Roman offered to sleep on the floor, but Chelsea was happy to sleep alongside him, and aside from tons of kissing, they managed to keep their hands to themselves, as Loretta Mae would say.

The last few days had gone way too quickly before Monday rolled around. Dean had trained her for almost three hours on Monday morning, telling her that he could tell she didn't work much over her short break, and in return, worked her to the nitty gritty. Shaming herself, she promised to keep up on some kind of workout schedule even on those glorious days off. Even though she didn't have a scheduled match card yet and most of her time was devoted to commentating, she couldn't slip up again. Surely, the time would come where she had to fight someone faster than expected…and she didn't want to disappoint anyone.

On Monday night, she'd gone a little off-script, cheering for AJ while she competed against Nikki Bella. Michael Cole teased Chelsea for cheering on AJ, mentioning that most divas didn't like her because she carried the championship belt. Chelsea ad-libbed, stating that it's not the belt that she was after, but the divas who tore down anyone who didn't meet their unachievable standards of perfection.

Even though AJ lost, Chelsea was happy to see that her friend had this wicked smile on her face, like she knew a secret that nobody else did yet. She was looking forward to spending time with AJ again, hoping to gain some insight as to how a relationship in this company would work out. They'd planned to meet after Smackdown, gearing up to head to Oregon.

But first, she'd have to get through this meeting with Stephanie. Yet again, Chelsea was only scheduled to be on the announce team, just as she was on Monday night. No interviews. She figured that with Natalie at her most vile point, the uppers didn't want to set her into the same trap that they did a week ago. She hoped that Stephanie didn't think that Chelsea had agreed to let Natalie humiliate her, willingly open to her comments to boost her character and story. That wasn't the case at all. In the same respect, she hoped that Stephanie hadn't evilly set her up. Although that seemed quite unlikely as well...

"Good to see you, Stephanie," she responded, sliding into the chair opposite the boss, her pants sliding across the faux leather of her chair. She was already dressed for the evening, wearing gray denim cropped jeans, black strappy pumps, and a black layered chiffon tank. She wore sparkling earrings that dangled, and once in awhile she had to rip at her hair because they kept tangling in it. Her hair was down and curled, eye makeup dark as ever, and her tattoo on grand display.

All items chosen via Vickie, of course.

Stephanie sat opposite, folding her hands on top of the desk. Already scattered with paperwork, Chelsea noticed that the once-young looking woman was beginning to look older, wrinkles starting to invade her youthful-looking eyes.

"I wanted to let you know that I'm very pleased with your microphone skills, Chelsea," she looked straight into her heavily made-up eyes. "Putting you on the announce team was an excellent choice. And I'd like to keep using you as an interviewer. Perhaps even bring more perspective to the other anti-divas, like AJ, or Tamina. Though I know you've already befriended _them_," she smiled, a little too sweetly for even Chelsea's taste. It was no secret that Stephanie and AJ didn't like each other much, and even AJ made that clear when she'd confided that she was slated to drop her belt to a newcomer from NXT. Chelsea couldn't imagine that her friendships would piss off her boss, but who knew?

"It's come to my attention that you and Natalie Niedhart seem to already have tension between you," she took out a pen and paper from one of her stacks and began to scribble furiously. "And I think that's great," she looked up for a moment, giving Chelsea a moment to glance at her scribbling. It was some kind of warped timeline.

"I loved that you took our social media networking to the next level without any hint from our experts. It makes everything more believable. I just want to make sure you know not to go overboard with your tweets. Summer Rae and Natalie believed that you overstepped the boundaries we expect, and Summer has come to me and asked me to look into your posts on Twitter, and personally, I see no issues.

I also wanted to make sure you knew that the WWE nor myself had anything to do with that interview that was given last week. I know well enough that you wouldn't allow her to take advantage of you with such a sore spot like that on your file. That was all Natalie's doing, and we have fined her as well as taken away her number one contendership following Wrestlemania."

Chelsea wondered if that was before or after AJ was supposed to lose her title to a rookie diva. She didn't say a word, but bit her lip nervously. She was certain that AJ's storylines were meant only for AJ, and if she shared them, her own penalty would be slapped on the table.

"I never expected that you knew Nat planned on humiliating me," Chelsea said lamely, but she knew it was true and scolded herself for ever thinking that Steph would do something to embarrass her in front of the WWE Universe. She knew that Stephanie had stuck her neck out by sending her off to rehab, and didn't want that to bite her in the ass.

"Believe me, we were irate," Stephanie's eyes had that gleam in them, and Chelsea knew she wasn't joking. "We can't prevent people from finding out about your past struggles, but we sure don't want to showcase the downfalls, either. We want to build you up, just like I know you want to. Prove yourself. But what I want to do is make sure our divas know they've pushed The Authority a little too far, and in turn, they will be punished. In this case, in the ring... I've got a short timeline here—" she pointed to the scratch paper—"And I'd like to see you fighting Summer Rae next week. At this point, I think her abilities streamline yours."

Chelsea hoped she was slated to win. The way Stephanie spoke, it seemed that the anti-divas would outshine the Total Divas. Though the outcome was most likely "to be determined," she'd make one hell of a show beating that dumb blonde's ass. If she couldn't get to Natalie yet, well…that tramp would have to do.

"You've been doing well on the microphone, obviously. You've gained more support than you think. I've spoken with Dean, and he guarantees you will be able to perform to our standards within a week. I trust him, and can't wait to see what you've gained from working with one of our top superstars."

Stephanie stood up, dismissing Chelsea. She stood up, too, trying to mask her surprise that Dean had commended her at all, especially after the mockery of a session she'd had with him.

"Thank you, Stephanie," Chelsea finally choked out, the whole meeting a messed-up whirlwind. "As always, I appreciate your time."

Stephanie walked her to the door, clapping her on the shoulder. "You know I'm rooting for you to excel," she said, standing in the doorway. She closed the door, not letting Chelsea put a word in whatsoever.

She stood there dumbfounded, staring at the closed door. She began walking backwards, trying to wrap her head around what was going on. She was going to debut on Smackdown next week. Stephanie wasn't pissed at her for abusing WWE Twitter accounts. Natalie and Summer made a point about tearing her down and going to cry about it to Stephanie. Dean didn't think she was hopeless. Was this all happening? Real life? For a minute, she couldn't be sure, and half expected to wake up in her rehab-center bed alongside Lennon.

Her thoughts were put to a sudden halt when she backed right into another body.

"Aw, look Natalie, Wednesday Addams got locked out of the morgue," Chelsea whipped around quickly, seeing none other but Natalie and Summer Rae, acting as though they were best buddies.

"Dumb and Dumber," she acknowledged the two blondes, getting a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to escape, and fast, from these two. Nobody seemed to be around, so if they ganged up on her, Stephanie was her only hope. She wondered how thin the walls were, and if Stephanie could hear her yell if she needed. She was only a few feet away from that office door, but that seemed like a thousand miles right now.

She composed herself, refusing to act like a cornered rabbit. She had the weapon of words, and she would use it.

"Wow, did you come up with that yourself?" Summer Rae sniffed, flipping her fake hair.

"I did; unlike your little Wednesday Addams remark. That little nickname was conjured up by my NXT pro, Maryse. But I'm sure you didn't know that, seeing as you know next to nothing about the WWE. Am I right?" Chelsea could feel a small fire burning deep within her now, and all she wanted to do was gouge out these two women's' eyes. She already had an issue with Natalie for whatever reason, but Summer Rae, she just flat-out didn't like.

"Don't worry, Sum, she's probably too doped up to know what she's saying," Natalie said out of the corner of her mouth, and Summer Rae giggled stupidly.

What the fuck? Even though Chelsea wasn't an avid follower of Total Divas, she knew that Summer and Nat didn't like each other. But right now, that theory was totally shot, the two women beginning to work up Chelsea.

"Soooo doped up," Chelsea mocked, sounding more confident than she really was. "I could've sworn I was on a farm. I mean, with the two cows grazing in front of me and all."

Summer looked like Chelsea had physically harmed her, hatred burning in the blonde's eyes.

Natalie was unharmed, and wasn't about to let Chelsea just slide by with a comment like that.

"That's cute, Chels. But that's not the real problem. You can sit there and attack us all you want with your words, but at the end of the day, who messed up so badly that all you are now is…commentating? What a joke! Sure, you'll be able to wrestle again. But even Dean Ambrose can't train the habit out of you. Even Dean can't chase away your demons!" she was pissed now, her face splotchy with red.

"Dean doesn't have to train the habit out of me, Nat. If he did, I wouldn't be here. Clean and sober, and at this time, demon-free," Chelsea was gritting her teeth, trying to mentally stop herself from knocking these two right in their jaws. Then, maybe they would exempt from jaw-jacking like this in the future…

"Once you're an addict, you have tendencies to lean back," Summer Rae spoke up.

Chelsea shook her head, putting her index finger in the air as if lecturing the other two. "That's where you're wrong. I will always have an addictive nature, but I know now how to manage that. I have changed the addiction to something positive. I'm here because I deserve to be. Because I worked for it, and work for it every day. What have you done that's so great? At the end of the day, all you are is…a dancer." Chelsea smiled back, her adrenaline working overtime now. She hadn't noticed that a cameraman had caught her last statement about how she deserved to be here. Proud of herself, she knew that he'd rush straight to Stephanie with that, something to use to hype up her debut against Summer.

As the cameraman took off towards the office, Summer Rae rolled her eyes, and Natalie stepped towards Chelsea. Now she was only inches towards her face, and Chelsea feared that she really would swing. She was sure she could take her on one-on-one, so long that Summer Rae didn't hold her by her hair or something.

"Between you and me," Natalie grew serious, "at the end of the day, you are going to be irrelevant. Nobody's going to care. Just like Jeff didn't."

Hearing his name put a sting in her belly, but at least it didn't pain her heart anymore.

"Jeff is irrelevant," she spat back, keeping her voice level.

But Natalie shook her head, then grabbed a strand of Chelsea's now-red hair. "Yeah? Did you use the blood from your wrists after you slit them?" It took a moment for Chelsea to follow that Natalie was talking about her hair, the weird shift in conversation baffling her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, standing her ground.

"Well, after you heard that Jeff and Beth were going to have a baby. You probably went and slit your wrists over that," her eyes bore into hers, and Chelsea was stunned.

She hadn't heard the news. She guessed that nobody told her because everyone was worried about how she'd react. She didn't' want to let on that yes, she was slightly heartbroken. She wished nothing but pain and hurt on Jeff Hardy after all the suffering he'd put her through. Why did he get this shit handed to him? A wife, a house, a car, a family…how the fuck did that work out?

Chelsea lunged at Natalie, but someone held her back. Actually, two someones did.

"Don't even, Chelsea, it's not worth it," Chelsea was thrashing wildly, almost smacking Tamina's perfectly smooth caramel-colored face.

"No, it isn't. Looks like someone's just butthurt over social media. Seriously, Natalie, grow up," AJ held on to Chelsea loosely, letting Tamina do most the work.

Natalie threw her head back, laughing, and Summer Rae joined in.

"AJ told you to grow up," Summer pretended to wipe a fake tear from her eye from laughing so hysterically.

"Maybe she should look in the mirror. She's got the body of a twelve year old boy!" Natalie laughed too, and Tamina and AJ put Chelsea down, Tamina using her size to try and intimidate the other women. But they kept laughing, and Summer Rae kept going.

"It's a wonder how Phil looks at that and wants to be groping…." But AJ shot the two a death glare, and Natalie smacked Summer Rae, a hint to shut the hell up. It was common courtesy amongst the divas and superstars to not bring in someone's significant others into personal dramas. Especially superstars like AJ's fiancé, who was still widely respected despite his own troubles with the McMahon family.

"I think it's best you two run along now and play with your Barbie dolls," Tamina spoke, slightly baring her teeth like some kind of rabid wolf.

"Better than playing video games and reading comics," Summer replied huffily, turning on her heel to leave. Natalie wasn't completely finished yet, looked at Tamina, and walked right past her. Back to Chelsea.

"Jeff is irrelevant, my ass," she said quietly, almost inaudibly.

Natalie watched Chelsea's face fall, slowly backing away. She was nodding, as if she knew it all along. As if she knew that Chelsea's biggest fear was the extreme superstar. And unfortunately, not only had she hit the nail on the head, but it was now guaranteed that she'd use him as her own personal weapon, and that was a destructive one. She blew a kiss, then followed Summer Rae down the narrow hallway, and Chelsea breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she said to her friends, who stood at either side of the woman.

"No problem. We didn't want you to get suspended for fighting—even though I can't say I'd blame you if you ripped Summer Rae's hair out," Tamina said back, and the three took off the opposite end of the hallway.

"Not unless I get to her first," AJ was still irked that she'd brought up her other half, as if she had a clue what she was talking about.

"All they ever do is rip on appearances. That's all they seem to care about," Tamina's eyebrows furrowed as she said this, and then shook her head. "I expected better from Natalie Niedhart."

Chelsea was lost in her thoughts. She was still feeling numb over the new revelation that Jeff was still happy as ever, not miserable and alone. Maybe Natalie was right. She wanted him so badly to be irrelevant to her now, blocking out the dreams, thoughts, and memories. Nat knew where to hit her where it hurt when it came to the youngest Hardy brother, but she knew she had to learn to let that roll off her back. Jeff was nothing to her anymore, and she challenged that mentality every day. No matter what, he was never going to come riding in on a white horse, gleaming in his armor. And she accepted that. She'd done an excellent job so far, pretending Jeff Hardy had never existed in her world.

Especially now that her world consisted of someone who actually deserved to be there. No, perhaps not a knight, but rather, part of a shield. But that was just as good.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sooo excited about The Shield/Evolution feud. Nice! In any event, I apologize for taking 100 years to type this up. I've been writing it all week, and hopefully I can get this up Friday night, if not, kick me in the face.**

* * *

"_The cardinal rule about getting over a person," Lennon was saying, "Is to quit dwelling. And by that, I mean don't go scouring the Internet for pictures."_

_But Chelsea wasn't listening. She didn't really care. All the talking today with the shrink made her grow overwhelmingly curious, and finally, she had to know. She sat on her bed cross-legged, opposite of her was Lennon, dragging her finger across the screen of her phone. When she let out a short, tight breath, Chelsea's ears perked up, leaning across to Lennon._

_She bit her lip, and Lennon handed her the little purple phone. Chelsea closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Sure as shit, there was the photograph that she'd been dreading. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes as the photograph on Google images stared back at her. There he was, his teal hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. He wore a black suit with an orange tie. To his left stood his brother, Matt Hardy, wearing a pair of shades perched on his head, sporting a navy blue suit. And on his arm was…her. Beth looked average as ever, her dress not really a gown that traditional brides would have chosen. She looked somewhat frumpy, but was beaming regardless._

"_Don't you think for your wedding, you'd want to look your best? I mean, she looks like she bought that curtain at a garage sale," Chelsea said bitterly, giving her friend her phone back._

_Wiping a tear off her cheek, Chelsea hoped that Lennon hadn't noticed. But of course she had, and she slid across the quilt of the bed to envelope her in a hug, which was generally something she didn't do._

"_I told you not to go poking around to find something you weren't ready to see," she mumbled into Chelsea's ear. She pulled away and gave her a weak smile. "The wounds are just still too raw. I don't understand why you would want to rub some salt in them when you don't have to."_

"_I just had to know if he ended up doing it," Chelsea admitted. "Why would he? He wasn't faithful to her, and she's nothing special anyways…"_

_Lennon put up an index finger, as if to silence the other woman._

"_Chels, don't be attacking her just because of Jeff. I know what he did to you, and believe me, I know it was wrong. But don't throw stones, because you have some blame, too. Think about it, how would you feel if you were the girlfriend, and there was…another woman?"Lennon had an edge to the last words. She had just found out that her fiancé had cheated on her, and despite the week full of crying and screaming, the pair had apparently agreed to work it out. But Chelsea knew it still killed Lennon inside, and now, Chelsea couldn't help feeling guilty. She knew both roles clearly now, both from her friend's perspective and her own. _

_Lennon continued: "Cheaters will always be cheaters. There's no getting around it. Once that trust is shattered, sometimes you cut up your hands trying to pick up the pieces." She furrowed her brow for a moment, as though she was about to take her own advice with her own messy relationship, then shook it off. She got up from the bed and began pacing, as though she was having an anxiety attack._

"_Just because someone isn't right next to you all of the time doesn't mean it's okay to sleep with someone else," she talked to no one now, and she was getting angry. _

"_Karma's a bitch, though. He'll figure that out."_

* * *

Chelsea broke her dear friend's rule yet again, this time, searching through countless engines and gossip websites trying to find anything that would point her in the direction of Jeff Hardy's unborn child.

There were no pictures of his blushing bride, thankfully; that would probably put her a little bit over the edge. Instead, she bumped into a sports news post, the headline reading: "Younger Hardy Says He is 'Proud to Change Life' for Daughter'". There was a picture of Jeff smiling, and a full-report, him admitting that the pair was expecting their first child in August.

Fighting the urge to throw her phone against the cinder block wall, she let the hot tears take over. She'd always hoped that Lennon meant Jeff would get the karma he deserved, but now she realized she was talking about her fiancé. At least, he was her fiancé at the time.

Even still, she let the emotion consume her. It wasn't sadness or grief, but more or less frustration. Sure, she'd met an amazing person that she'd felt was on the right track. But she was…jealous? Perhaps that was this feeling. Good things take time, and she understood that. She had a great thing going with Roman; a young love with a lot of silly, fun things. But Jeff had made such an example out of her feelings, trust, and heart that seeing him act like she never meant anything to him was still a solid stab to the back.

She let her body slide down the wall until she was in a crouching position, allowing her head to bury into her knees. She probably looked as silly as she felt, but she didn't care much. Nobody was around anyways. She did, however, care that unfortunately, Nat was right. As much as she wanted Jeff to fade away into the background, he was not yet off her mind for good. Even though he should be…

"Chelsea?" she peaked out of the corner of her eye, her vision still blurred. She buried her head back into her lap, annoyed that he'd even bother to reach out to her. Not that he cared about a whole lot of people besides himself.

Dean slid next to her, a weird nervous chill taking over her body. Dean had made it clear that they weren't cool with each other; just simply worked together. Though he never said it, she knew it. And she supposed it wasn't a surprise that he didn't like her all that much. She didn't like him, either.

He was a shitty person.

"Go away," she mumbled, wiping tears from her eyes.

"No. See, I was just getting ready for the night, and I heard this awful rumor that Natalie and Summer tried to shake you up a bit."

"I held my own," she responded curtly, wishing she could disappear. How cool was that, that whispers of their little 3-way catfight had already made its way backstage? Not to mention, part of it was going to be viewed by millions of people. Not Chelsea's best moment by any means.

"I didn't say that you didn't. I heard that you were ready to beat some ass. So I'm proud of you—you'll do excellent in the ring. But you have to control that temper backstage. Make Summer look like an idiot in the ring next week. I know you can, her moves are very stiff."

"Yeah, but she's not rusty."

"No, she isn't, but neither are you. Not really. You've trained a lot to be where you are, and where you were. We've got just a few dents to hammer out and your in-ring talent will be just as good as Michelle McCool's, or even Melina."

Chelsea thought that seemed like a stretch. Michelle managed to pull of very perfect moves, and Melina—aside from the obnoxious screeching, she remembered—just took a lot of chances, overall causing her to be out with a knee injury for an immeasurable amount of time.

"Why are you being nice to me?" the tears were gone now, and Dean looked thoughtful.

"Because sometimes you realize that if you stop to help a person rather than walk on by, and pretend the problem doesn't exist, you might end up saving them," he responded. Chelsea didn't have to ask to know what he was referring to. She didn't really want to talk about it, either.

"I don't need saving anymore."

"No, you don't. But you're acting like it. I know you and Ro have a thing. That's fine. I think it's fucked up, but whatever. I would've guessed Seth. I know why you're upset right now, and I don't want you to be using Roman to get over little Jeffy. So if you are, you'd better break it off, now."

This was more like the Dean that Chelsea knew and hated. He had a douche-y, know-it-all tone to his monologue.

"Like you know all about excellent relationships," she snorted, rolling her eyes.

"I know I messed up, and I always did. I tried to pretend things were gonna get better, but I knew that after that, things couldn't be the same between—"

"Stop," she cut him off. She didn't want to talk about this today. Or ever.

"Just like before, I don't need to hear your apologies." She was starting to get angry, and Dean must've sensed that he'd gone too far. He stood up, a solemn look in his deep brown eyes. He kind of looked like a wounded puppy, and for a split second, Chelsea thought that maybe he was sorry.

Not that it mattered.

"Just think about what I said. If you want to be with Roman, fine, but he doesn't need the a run-around from you."

With that, he left the woman alone in the hall again, and she let a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. For too long it felt like everyone else was going on with their lives, and all the crap that's happened came and went. But Chelsea was still trying to climb her way out of a six-foot hole. If it weren't for Roman, she would still be climbing. Having him certainly helped speed up the process…but what did that mean? She didn't believe that she was using him. Not after everything that they'd talked about. Besides, she was able to open up to him and that was a leap forward in itself. She'd really kept her heart on a tight rope, never letting it wander.

On the other hand, she knew her head was still warped. She had only been in one real relationship, because calling the thing her and Jeff had a "relationship" was quite the long shot. He did some serious damage to her head, heart, and soul; and sometimes she felt that she was a darker, drearier person because of him.

So maybe as much as she cared for Roman, and wanted to be with him, she had a lot of work to do with herself…after all, just because you deeply care for someone, doesn't mean you should stick around and screw up their lives, too…

"Chelsea Sweetly? We're on in ten," someone carrying around a clipboard had called out to her, shaking her back to reality. She'd have more time to think later, but right now, it was time to sit next to JBL and Michael Cole at the announce table.

But first, she would have to make a pit stop. She probably had black, teary streaks running down her cheeks. Not cute.

* * *

"Michael Cole here, sitting ringside with John Bradshaw Layfield and the lovely Chelsea Sweetly," the scrawniest of the three said into the camera, a dumb smile on his face. Chelsea blew a kiss, not bothering to smile. She wasn't really feeling up to it tonight. She'd learned that it was grossly painful to fake a smile when all you wanted to do was scream.

"We have quite a Smackdown lined up for you all watching at home! First, the Real Americans will face off against the Usos. Later tonight, NXT's very own Emma will take on Summer Rae...Chelsea, who are you going to root for?"

Chelsea was ready to punch Michael Cole in the face already. She should've figured they were going to play up the little argument backstage immediately. After all, it was going to boost the storyline, and hopefully gain enough attention that fans were able to decipher which side they stood on.

"Oh, Michael, I think everyone knows who I'm cheering for. It's no secret that I got into a scuffle backstage with Summer," she said back, ad-libbing but knowing what he was goading her into saying.

"Did you really?" JBL spoke up, genuinely surprised.

"We sure did. I wouldn't mind meeting Summer in the ring for my first match back. She can do all the fancy dance moves she wants, but there won't be anything do dance about once I play her some of my music."

"That sounds like a challenge to me, Cole," JBL laughed, his white teeth sparkling. "Our cameramen tell us they have exclusive footage from backstage. But first, let's do a Raw Review."

Chelsea hoped that they wouldn't have a chance to bring up the footage later on, and pushed it out of her mind. She called the matches, watching the Usos dominate the Real Americans. She saw Sin Cara kick some dude's ass that she never heard of. She cheered for Hornswoggle when he helped the Two Man Band cheat to win.

But then, as fate would have it, the next match was slated to be the diva's match; Summer with Fandango in her corner versus Emma with Santino.

"Let's take a look at that exclusive backstage footage," Michael Cole was saying, and sure as hell, a snippet was on the Titantron now.

Embarrassed, Chelsea sunk lower in her leather chair. The fans knew she was there, and were probably ready to murder her for making such a mockery out of one of the beloved Total Divas. Or rather, two of them.

Without a whole lot of reaction, minus a few "wooooo!" comments and minor cheering, Emma was on her way to the ring, doing a ridiculous dance that had everyone dancing along. She was cute, very clumsy, and a hundred percent still a rookie.

"For whatever reason, this girl has the whole building going!" Cole exclaimed, and JBL jumped in next, saying, "she looks ridiculous. Even Summer knows that, and the only person who has the heart to tell her."

"Summer has no heart," Chelsea said back, Fandango's salsa music filling the arena. The pair danced down the aisle, and even Chelsea had to admit, she could really move. It made sense that her in-ring capabilities were stiff, because her dancing moves were sharp and spot on, with almost no error.

The match was quickly underway, and Chelsea would put in anti-diva comments every now and then, slamming the likes of both Summer and Natalie. The two men reacted well, and the three of them made an almost natural team.

Somehow, Emma managed to pull off a silly win, and Summer stood in the ring dumbfounded, her dance partner at the apron, shaking his head with his hand covering his face. He was embarrassed that she had been put out by such a "talentless" young girl. At least, that's what JBL had stated.

Chelsea decided to take it a step further, standing up and applauding Emma's win. She even did a few of the arm-swing dance moves in celebration. The cameras caught her, and she gave a thumbs-up.

Next thing she knew, Summer was standing right over the announce table, angrily glaring at Chelsea. She yelled something, but Chelsea couldn't hear it. So instead, she just waved and smiled.

That must've really ticked off Summer, because she was grabbing for Chelsea's hair, and in defense, she pushed her backwards, sending her flying to the floor. Perhaps she'd even put a little too much muscle into it, because Summer was still on the floor, mouth hanging open, her eyes shining as she rubbed her lower back.

Chelsea pointed to the ring. Pointed to Summer, then herself.

"See you next week, Sweet Face," she said into the microphone.

Summer scrambled to her feet, leaving Chelsea standing alone.

Yes, next week she was going to meet one of the villainous women of wrestling in the ring. And as nervous as she was, she couldn't have been more excited either. She had a lot to prove, and hopefully she could help shake up the women's division a little bit. Seven days were going to pass by too fast, and she already got the butterflies in her stomach knowing that she'd be coming down that ramp as Chelsea Sweetly the diva, not the interviewer/announce team member. She started wondering if she should have Dean go through her submission move again. God, she couldn't wait to outshine Summer. Maybe even put her to sleep.

Sweet dreams.


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Onward! I feel like sometimes, I am Chelsea. She is supposed to represent a lot of women who had that one guy (or girl!) who just screwed her over…and as much as you want to forget him, you can't. Like the "I hate you" to "Why would he do that to me" in 0.5 seconds. This one's for us!**

* * *

Roman enveloped his girl, giving her the greatest bear hug he could muster. Dean had told him that Natalie and Summer Rae had verbally attacked her in the hallway, and that was confirmed later in the Smackdown taping. Though the only member to compete tonight was Dean, all three were scheduled promos, and it put a serious damper on seeing Chelsea. Lame as it seemed, he did miss her.

"You really sold the story," he said to her after they'd pulled apart.

AJ was to her side, that evil grin on her face. "That's because it's really not a story. I hope that Chels can knock a tooth out."

Chelsea seemed distant, and Roman knew she was thinking about her match. He had to admit, he was surprised that Dean had given the green light to Stephanie to schedule her. At first he suspected that his partner was acting maliciously, so that the bimbo could get her shining moment and Chelsea would look like she didn't belong in the ring. But after speaking to him and voicing that concern, Dean assured Roman that he truly believed in Chelsea, stating that with a couple heavy training sessions, she'd be back at the top of her game.

Chelsea didn't say anything for a long while. "What's wrong, Chelsea Sweetly? Nervous for the life sized Barbie?" he teased, hoping she wouldn't take it wrong.

"I just don't know if I'm really ready," she admitted, and AJ rolled her eyes.

"When it's a real fight, you are going to have so much adrenaline to out-do each other, that win or lose…people are going to watch."

"The divas division, aside from…well, you…is just struggling so much. A lot of fans get up and get refills on their sodas or take a piss or whatever. I worked hard, and I know we all do. I'm afraid that overall, it's not going to get the kind of response it should."

AJ leaned closer to the pair, nodding her head. "I know what you mean, but if you give it a thousand percent, the right people are going to notice. I promise."

Chelsea thanked her friend, having given her a sense of encouragement. Earlier, AJ had let management know she planned on taking some time off following Wrestlemania, and they'd nearly blown a gasket. Even though she'd been the champion for as long as she had, she still hadn't fully gained the respect she deserved. The more she worked, the more apparent it was they held a grudge against her simply because of who she was dating. Sad as it was, Chelsea really didn't want her to leave in the midst of the divas and anti-divas war. But at the same time she understood; as AJ was always missing her fiancé and skating by on matches, subject of a lot of locker room talk. A true friend found only in a handful of her colleagues.

AJ had left the two alone to meet with Tamina, reminding Chelsea which room the trio would be staying in. Roman's face fell a little, all the while hoping he'd be able to spend the night with Chelsea.

"It would be easier to stay with me, you know," he told her as they walked out to the parking lot.

"I guess. I just really missed AJ while she was gone."

"Don't stay up too late painting each other's nails and gossiping," he faux-scolded, and Chelsea laughed.

"Believe me, I'm good on that. I'm sure she is, too."

"Alright, well, let me drive you. Dean has a grueling work out set for you tomorrow, so make sure you rest up."

"Should I stretch beforehand?" she quirked an eyebrow. "Because if so, maybe I should stay with you."

Roman knew she was kidding, but the sexual tension was undeniable. Playing off from it, he turned to her, his chiseled features quirking his own eyebrow.

"That might be interesting. I could help you stretch all night."

Chelsea smacked him in the shoulder, giggling girlishly. She shook her head, slipping her hand into Roman's. Roman looked out of the corner or his eye to see if anyone else was headed to the parking lot yet. He only saw Big E, who nodded at him, ignoring the fact that he was holding hands with the darkest diva.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of his relationship. He was ready for it, of course. But he wasn't sure letting the whole locker room know quite yet was the right choice. Part of him worried that once Alicia figured out he had finally began dating someone else, she'd stir up some trouble. Add her into the drama with the Total Divas, and his girlfriend's head would probably explode.

He also didn't want her to be scrutinized when she became successful. She did it on her own, without any of his help. However, people don't always see that—they'd see that the Shield turned out to be successful, and she was riding on their coattails. False, but a probable assumption.

And that's when he saw that rat duck behind Natalie's red car, her bleachy blonde hair catching the sheen from the moon.

Fucking Summer.

He didn't think she saw anything, but what if she had? She had brand new ammunition to fire, and Chelsea wasn't fully prepared for the divas to scrutinize her relationship. Sure, Naomi might have his back, but could the same be said for Chelsea? Probably not…

Hoping that Summer hadn't seen the pair, he opened the door for Chelsea, and she slipped inside. She was already digging in her purse for a CD and Roman groaned. She didn't have terrible taste in music. He was more a classic rock kind of guy, and she enjoyed screechier versions with keyboard overload.

"It won't be that bad, I promise," she laughed, and she found what she was reaching for. Roman wasn't so sure, and was prepared for the worst.

"I had a really good friend when I was staying…in California," she said the last part uncomfortably, and he sensed she was still embarrassed that she'd spent time in rehab. She handed him the tan CD, and Chelsea continued:

"She loved this band. For my birthday last year, she sent this to my apartment I'd been staying at when I was still seeing the doctor there. Outpatient." She was really uncomfortable now, and Roman looked at it before slipping the CD in the player. He'd never heard of the band, but he figured he'd give it a try. She flipped through the tracks, finally settling on one.

"I always think of Len when I hear this," she reminisced, a pained expression on her face. He wondered how they'd fallen out of contact, but the look on her face told him not to ask. Not yet. Perhaps she was still serving her time in the rehabilitation facility.

Rather than the roar of Chelsea's regular, violins began to play, and a gruff voice sang, off-set by a beautiful woman's voice. He had to admit, this friend of Chelsea's had pretty decent taste. The combination of the two voices he wasn't sure he'd heard before, but the man's voice...he was almost sure he had. He just couldn't quite put his finger on where.

_Break their hold;_

_Because I won't be controlled._

_They can't keep their chains on me_

_When the truth has set me free._

_This is how it feels when you take your life back._

_This is how it feels when you finally fight back._

_When life pushes me, I push harder. What doesn't kill me;_

_Makes me stronger._

_The last thing I heard is you whispering goodbye;_

_And then I heard you flatline._

"I like it," Roman said after the song finished, giving a nod of approval. They were getting close to the hotel now, and he noticed Chelsea had gone quiet. He looked at her, and she looked back.

"I'm sorry. I haven't listened to this in awhile."

Taking the queue, Roman cleared his throat. "Why did you play this for me?"

Giving a half-smile, she responded, "Because if I've ever learned anything, it's to believe in myself. Even if I'm the only one believing."

"Your friend has decent taste in music," he responded, and Chelsea smiled wider. "If you knew the band she sang for, you wouldn't think so," she told him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw she was watching him.

"That rough?"

"Very rough. Think Marilyn Manson meets Children of Bodom. One of her biggest songs was called Property of Goatfucker."

"Don't know who the Children are, but Manson is creepy. And what the fuck?" he shook his head, thinking he should look up the song when he'd gotten back to the hotel. But Chelsea had warned him it was less than ideal, so he quickly put that idea to rest. It sounded terrible, anyways.

"Why would she like something like this?"

Chelsea thought for a moment. "Because she was hopeful," she said back. "She was consumed by darkness for a really long time. And finally, she'd started to change for the better." She looked away, and Roman turned into the hotel parking lot.

The pair got out of the vehicle, the crisp air instantly cooling Roman. Chelsea walked to the back and slung her bag over her shoulder, even though Roman offered to carry it for her. Together, they'd walked to the lot. They were the last of the stars to make it to the hotel for the evening, and Roman felt disappointed again that he wouldn't be able to stay with her.

"Next weekend my brother's coming home," she said quietly, and at first, Roman wasn't sure what she'd said, or if she'd said anything at all. "Toby."

"You going to see him?" he asked, and she shrugged. "I want to see him. I don't want to see anyone else."

"Get ahold of him. I'll go with you," he said back. Her eyes flashed, and she instantly lightened up.

"Really? Because I would really appreciate it," she said, and Roman put his free arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"For you, Chels, I would travel to the opposite side of the world."

* * *

Did she really ask Roman to stay at her lowly studio apartment in Portland? Yes, she did. Compared to Roman's immaculate home, it was laughable; but it was too late. Toby would be staying at their Mom's, so that was fine, but it was still scary to let him into the personal part of her life that she didn't like to flaunt. She thought about it quickly, her gray walls covered with creepy paintings of trees and blackbirds, her five hundred black t-shirts, and her mound of shoes….yikes. She was going to have to call Toby to check in and make sure she didn't have anything embarrassing laying around before Roman set foot in there.

The next thing she knew, they were facing her room, AJ and Tamina already inside. She could hear the quiet talking already, and AJ was watching…Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? No surprise.

"Just a kiss goodnight?" Roman asked slowly, and Chelsea watched each word tumble from his lips. She hardly had the heart to agree, suddenly wishing that she had agreed to spend the night with him. But part of her didn't know that she'd be able to stop herself from doing something stupid, and she wasn't sure she was ready for a physical relationship, no matter how much she lusted for Ro. She liked where they were. Still a very young, teenager-like summer romance. That was where she wanted them to be right now.

"But I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked as a question, knowing that the Shield members had an exclusive interview for WWE's website.

"I'm sure you will," he closed in on her, his lips barely grazing hers when they heard clapping behind them.

"Holy shit, girl, you tamed the beast?" Seth was all smiles, his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Both Roman and Chelsea rolled their eyes, and Roman gave her a quick kiss, making his way to Seth and elbowing him in the sternum.

"See ya later, Seth," Chelsea called out, and he was still doubled over walking down the hallway. She opened the door to her own room, her eyes trained on her friends. Tamina was doing some sort of yoga, AJ was sprawled out, sketching a picture of one of the Ninja Turtles.

Shutting the door, Chelsea threw her bag into a corner, saying hello to the two. She pulled out a bag of pita chips from her duffel, cracking them open.

It was silent for quite awhile, and for the first time in her entire life, she watched TMNT. She found that AJ was sending the picture to Phil, and she realized that next to the turtle, had drawn a heart-shaped pizza.

Aww.

"So tell me about you and Roman," AJ said finally, peering over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses.

"I mean….well, I went to visit his house," she said shyly, her face gaining some red. "It was wonderful. And as much as I didn't want a relationship at this point in my life, it's working out so far…"

AJ gave a Ric Flair "Wooo!" and clapped happily, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed.

"Sometimes I'm afraid I won't be able to balance drama, the past, my career, and a relationship. How do you do it?" she asked the black widow, and she pulled her knees back up to her chest.

"Save the drama for the shows. The past is passed. All that's left is your career and your relationship. Throw in some you-time, and us-time, and it will work out. As long as you want it to, everything plays off from each other and you'll be fine."

Chelsea considered this. When she was screwing around with Jeff, he outweighed everything, and she threw away everything for him. She wasn't good at time management, she supposed. But with Roman being a rising star, maybe it'd work out. He wouldn't be able to hang out whenever like Jeff did…and it would make the time together better.

At least, she hoped so.

Tamina came over, stuffing her hand into the pita chip bag. "So you and Roman Reigns," she smirked, shaking her head. "I always thought it'd be him and Summer," she said with a mouthful of chips.

"What makes you say that?" Chelsea had a painful pang in her stomach.

"Because, she's a human leech!" AJ cut in. "It's not like she's got anything going for her. She's the type that would get together with someone just because they were stars. When she started, she flaunted her boobs and legs to a very unimpressed Randy Orton. Little did she know he was as unavailable as could be." Tamina snickered, nodding. Hell, even Chelsea knew that one of the top stars had his eyes on only his wife and his daughter. She remembered them coming to see him win the heavyweight title, and he was so proud...

"Really though, keep your eye on Roman Reigns," Tamina's voice got strong as she swallowed her chips.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's not my business, but Alicia Fox and myself used to be good pals back when I started. They dated for awhile. Not long enough for it to make a difference, but it really didn't work out, and she was heartbroken for a bit."

Chelsea didn't like the way that sounded, hiding a gulp. Roman hadn't said anything about heartbreak, just that they were both young. What did he conveniently "forget" to tell her?

She gained the courage and asked, "What happened?"

AJ shot Tamina "the look" and Tamina brushed it off. "She has a right to know," she said back.

"Know what?" Chelsea was growing antsy now. She had a really bad feeling about it, and she was beginning to grow more and more anxious.

"Roman…he ended up cheating on Alicia," Tamina said quickly. "I don't know the whole story, but I know in whatever situation, cheating is not cool."

Chelsea could've sworn she was going to puke. Her stomach felt like it had a ten-ton weight in it, and her palms began to sweat. Her Roman? The sweet, careful guy she'd spent all this time with? The one she'd opened up to, let him get close to her? Let him touch her, kiss her...? Was he seriously a cheater?

_Once a cheater, always a cheater,_ Lennon's voice was echoing in her head now, and disappointment took control. She almost couldn't believe it. She knew that Roman had a past, and that was fine. She was no saint. But he had omitted the fact that he'd been with another woman in during his last relationship—and to her, that was just like a straight lie. After seeing Lennon disintegrate after getting cheated on and having been the woman on the side, she thought Roman would have a lot more respect for her and tell her he'd messed up, too. It was despicable, really, and Chelsea was angry more than anything.

Once you started playing with another person's heart means you've got nothing left in yours.

But Chelsea couldn't cry. Part of her felt like this was all to ruffle her feathers, but she wasn't so sure. Her friends were watching her back, and didn't want to tell her about Roman's past to hurt her, just to make her aware of it. AJ tried to get Tamina to hold back on this information for awhile, perhaps because Chelsea's relationship with Roman was still too new, but also because she was still very fragile.

She wanted a drink. She wanted a lot of them. She wanted to scream, to curse, to fuck Jeff Hardy until she didn't have these stupid emotions anymore. She wanted to run away from this hotel, run away from Roman, and never look back. But none of those were options, so she did the last thing she could do.

Chelsea marched right over to her duffle bag, pulled out her swimsuit, and left.

She could hear Tamina and AJ scuffling, about how it wasn't their place to say anything, but it was Roman's; and Chelsea just angrily chuckled. Of course he wouldn't bring up such a scalding hot piece of his past! He'd just sit there and listen to hers, pretending he was perfect.

Fuck that.

Changing into her suit in the tiny locker room, she was happy to see the pool was vacant. She didn't want to attempt to swim laps with kids around. She hadn't actually taken a real swim since she'd left California, and before that; back in high school. She was on the varsity team her senior year, and was actually pretty good. She'd been offered tons of scholarships, but the truth was, she'd just grown bored of competing. That, and the way her teammates would make fun of one girl who tried her damnest but couldn't quite get the hang of competitive swimming. Her name was Molly, and she was perhaps the nerdiest they came, even outdoing AJ. Of course, once Chelsea quit, they turned their focus towards her, which eventually led her to dying her pretty chestnut brown hair black, dumping her high school sweetheart, and making good friends with her eyeliner pencil... all to her mother's dismay.

She'd left school and pursued modeling shortly after, but eventually, she'd grown bored of that, too. She'd found her place when she'd started wrestling, and truly fell in love with the art.

She was lucky to still be doing what she loved.

All the while these thoughts were running through her head, she was swimming back and forth across the pool. She swam 'til muscles she didn't even know she had were sore. She swam the breaststroke, freestyle, the butterfly. She swam until her fingers and toes got pruny, until the chlorine was starting to interfere with her breathing.

Pulling herself out of the water, she grabbed her towel and began to dry off. She decided that after her time training with Dean tomorrow, she was going to leave for awhile. She didn't really want to go to Oregon, so that was out of the question. She wasn't homesick for her apartment; and besides, if Roman did choose to follow her, he'd be able to figure out where she'd gone.

No, she was going on her own mini-vacation…she had a lot of thinking to do.


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thank you to all the reviews, watches, faves, follows…creepers, lol! I know things seem like they're totally confusing but I promise you they will all begin to come together. I enjoy reading guesses and I really enjoy that everyone has good faith in Roman. Don't stop reading! P.S.—designed the picture of Chels as the new cover. What do you think? I'm proud of my work haha.**

* * *

_**Where is Chelsea Sweetly?**_

_**And, more importantly, where is Dean Ambrose?**_

_**But, most importantly, why were they last seen at a gas station together?**_

Roman looked up from his cell phone screen, his friend Seth looking at him. "See, man? I know we take gossip sites with a grain of salt, but this person said that the two left together."

Still, Roman couldn't really believe that. Dean wasn't exactly Chelsea's biggest fan, and he knew she wasn't keen on him, either. If they were running off together, the only thing he could think of was that Chelsea needed a ride to wherever. But then, she was friends with Tamina who often drove her own car, and even though he had promos up the ass these next few days, all she had to do was ask. He would've gladly driven her wherever she needed to go.

Still, the fact that she'd taken off after a long morning practice with the Shield's leader without even mentioning a word to anyone didn't seem right. He'd called her, but her phone was off. He called Dean, but he wasn't responding.

He'd bumped into AJ, but she was tight-lipped, and he had a feeling that she knew something. But one thing he knew, for the most part, girl friends stayed pretty true to one another, having each other's backs and all that. Even if he tortured her, AJ would probably deny knowing where his girlfriend was.

"I don't' know, Seth…they really butt heads. I can't see them sitting in a car without potentially killing each other." Roman realized that it was entirely possible that they were becoming closer with every session together. That maybe their dislike for each other was, in some odd fucking universe, more or less something that drove them into each other's arms.

If he could've, he would've kicked his own ass for that thought. This was real life, and shit like that only happened in the movies.

Right?

Seth shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think they have something going on, as in _that_. But I think that they left together for a reason, and left us out of it because they had to."

Roman pondered that thought. Had he done something wrong? He liked to think she'd tell him if there was an emergency that she'd had to run off for. Then again, she hadn't bothered to text him back most of last night, and that was unusual in itself. He knew she'd gone out for a swim pretty late, but only because he'd asked the front desk attendant if she'd seen anyone…

"Chelsea's not the kind of girl who would leave me hanging," Roman decided aloud, and it was true. They'd been nothing but honest, goofy, and careful. They had that immense amount of respect for each other. Their relationship was heading in the right direction, despite their busy schedules.

At least, he thought so.

"I bet I know where she ran off to," Summer Rae appeared out of nowhere, and both men looked at each other, then her, curiously.

"How did you get in here?" Seth asked her. Roman wondered, too, because he was sure they'd locked the door to their hotel room.

"The door was propped open. I heard you two fine gentlemen talking about your little emo friend." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, as if Chelsea was a dirty band-aid.

Roman felt anger boiling quickly. "That 'emo' friend of ours happens to be my—" he caught himself, because he knew once he'd admitted his loyalty to Chelsea, this bitch would run with it and sabotage it. Bad idea to say she was his girl right now, in the midst of everything. It was far too soon for anyone to come in and ruin a good thing, and aside from his career, Chelsea wast the best thing for him right now. She had finally brought out the less serious, silly, spontaneous part of him that he had forgotten he'd had anymore. He appreciated that she brought out the teenager in him again; in all aspects. Hell, he couldn't keep his mind from wandering every time he just _looked _at her. He could've sworn he was sixteen years old again.

"Your what? New fuck buddy? I'm certain Alicia would looove to hear that," she sounded so evil as she dragged the words out. If she wasn't a woman, Roman would have half the mind to plan a triple powerbomb in her near future.

"You don't know shit about me and Alicia," Roman responded, and Summer faked a laugh.

"I guess not. But people talk, and I know what the cause of break-up was. A bar slut? Really? I thought you had class." She batted her eyelashes, as if to say, _"Look at me! Look at me!"_

"Says the girl that was ready to drop on her knees for Randy Orton," mumbled Seth, and the two hounds of justice shared a good laugh at the expense of the blonde woman.

"Oh, fuck off. I could have him if I wanted him," she flipped her hair and Roman almost expected her fake hair to go flying across the room when she whipped it around like that. He was ready to tune her out, because someone like Summer probably couldn't even get with Santino. She was just THAT girl that nobody wanted to hang around. A human leech.

Seth stifled a laugh, and she cut in quickly.

"Like I was saying, Roman," she was starting to close in on him, touching his arm. Her touch was surprisingly warm, but still wasn't the touch he wanted. She was getting uglier the more she was speaking. "I have a good idea of where she disappeared to."

"Alright, shoot," he said, quickly jerking his arm away. She looked annoyed when he did that, but what did she really expect?

"Your little devil-worshipping, goat-slaying buddy ran off to Cameron, North Carolina," she smirked. "You know, to visit an old friend." She gave Roman a wink.

"I don't believe you," he said back. Chelsea would certainly not skip town to go visit with Jeff Hardy. From all the time they had previously spent dissecting her feelings about his treatment towards her, her thoughts about a real relationship versus the one she had with Hardy, and how her nightmares were beginning to calm down, Roman didn't believe for a moment that she'd regress to her old ways. No, she was too proud of how far she was coming and growing as a person.

"Go ahead, don't believe me. Little Matty's getting married this weekend. You don't really think she'd hold a grudge against him, too, do you?" she licked her lips, her eyes holding Roman's gaze. If she was lying, she was an A-plus bullshitter. He had heard that Matt Hardy was getting married sometime, but they rarely spoke about him or Amy Dumas, who were both around during Chelsea and Jeff's dark days.

"You mean she didn't tell you? Guess your Hawthorne Heights groupie isn't as into Mr. Superman as much as he thinks."

The way she was ripping on Chelsea was really beginning to piss him off, especially because she wasn't there to rip her face off.

"Really cute, Summer," Seth spoke to her. "You're really cool, talking about someone like that who isn't even here," Roman was nodding; Seth had read his mind.

"What is this, fifth grade? Grow up," Roman added, taking her elbow and leading her towards the door again.

Summer was laughing, knowing that she'd struck nerves.

"When you finally do talk to the Crypt Keeper, let her know that she always wants to drag it across the street, not down the road!" she laughed hysterically as the door slammed behind her. They heard her cackling all the way down the hotel hallway.

This time, Seth locked both the latch and the knob. This was no place for bitches like that. Both really liked Chelsea, no matter what anyone else said or thought. Roman had figured it was mostly because they were too superficial and saw what they wanted to see: black and red hair, the dark makeup, the dark clothes, and ripped jeans. Mix that in with a shady history, and Chelsea Sweetly was an easy target.

But that girl was something really, really special. Though she carried herself the same girlish way yet that AJ did and not the obnoxious grown-up woman way that Alicia had, she had that something about her that was intoxicating. He'd talked to Loretta Mae about her last time they'd spoken on the phone, and he admitted that one day, she was the kind of woman he could see himself with in the long run. She scolded him for not taking her for his mama's approval, though Roman already knew that his parents would adore Chelsea just as much. His family was the least superficial as they came, heavy roots in family and loyalty.

"What does that even mean?" Roman spoke finally. "Across the street, not down the road?"

Seth shook his head, his face getting red. "She accused Chelsea of being a cutter," he said. "Like, if you cut across your wrist, you're safe, but if you cut down it, you could hit the wrong vein and accidentally kill yourself."

"What the fuck is her deal?" Roman asked. "I've seen—hell, we've ALL seen Chelsea with a tank top on. She doesn't have cuts. She just has her surgery scar," it was an instant foot-in-mouth moment, hoping that Seth didn't inquire more about Chelsea's scar. It wasn't his business to say, anyways.

"Whatever her issue is with Chelsea, this whole little visit seems a lot more pre-planned than it should," Seth said. He peeked through the tiny peephole, nodded, and waved Roman over. Sure as shit, Natalie was just down the hall, and Summer Rae had stopped to talk with her. She was still laughing.

* * *

Summer had to admit, this whole little visit worked like a charm. Natalie had been right. Using Jeff to drive a wedge between her and Roman was an ingenious idea. After she'd told her she'd seen the-ugh!-couple holding hands in the parking lot after Smackdown, Natalie saw room for opportunity.

"Insecurity is one of the big problems in relationships, and I think Chelsea already has that," Natalie had said. Now, Summer wasn't so sure. She seemed outspoken, had the don't-give-a-fuck attitude, and how quickly she was becoming noticed was starting to bother her. It must have put a raincloud on Nat's mood, too, because she was absolutely vicious with her words when they'd encountered her outside of Stephanie's office. The way she could inflict pain with just the mention of Jeff Hardy's name was unbelievable, and it was clearly a sore spot in Chelsea and Roman's relationship. With enough pulling, those threads could break easily, and both of them would end up flat on their faces.

Summer had brought up though, that the longer Roman and Chelsea continued their relationship, the quicker the heartache the extreme artist had left with Chelsea would disappear. She was afraid that Roman was going to do more repair, and the longer they waited, the less painful their words were. They really needed to throw her off her game, so she just faded in with the other women. They needed to prove that she wasn't Queen Shit. So, bringing down the bitch was going to have to start with Roman.

The way this all played out was just way too beautiful.

"Eva said it's not insecurity, but suspicion, that is the ultimate deal-breaker," she'd brought up the last time she'd met with Natalie about this little situation. Natalie had agreed, trying to decipher the best way to make Chelsea look like a lying whore. Sadly, she had no past relationships aside from Hardy that they knew of, but when they saw Chelsea and Dean run out the door together, they'd struck a gold mine. Yeah, Dean was hopelessly devoted to some Californian goddess, but who cared? This was a perfect story, and neither would deny they were together. So, Natalie and Summer Rae wrote in to some random gossip site, did a little research, and Summer volunteered to do the dirty work: lie to his face.

Even if Roman didn't believe her, the seed of doubt was already planted, and that was a start.

Summer was happy to bring down yet another clone of fucking AJ, sweeping Phil from right under her—almost literally, too. Another month with him and Summer and CM Punk would've been the hottest TV couple. What the fuck ever, though. He wasn't around anymore, and AJ could have him. She didn't get it, couldn't understand what he was seeing in AJ. But Chelsea was of the same maker, too sweet and naïve, but had that dark side, too. Summer hated to admit, that like AJ, Chelsea was a natural in the ring. All of this, plus capturing Roman Reign's attention, plus just being an uber bitch…that was reason enough for her to run her off the road. She wasn't sure what Nattie's big problem with Chelsea really was. She had really only said that they'd been friends, Chelsea had severely let her down and put a nasty stigma on the Hart Foundation. Since her rehab stint was still fairly hush-hush, Summer thought that maybe Nat was blowing this out of proportion. Then again, the Hart family was just as tight-knitted as Jimmy and Jey's. Who knew? All Summer knew is that she was gaining some recognition for once, aside from being that faggot Fandango's little dancing buddy.

God, she hated working with him.

It seemed like the storylines were going to be phenomenal, too. It would give Total Divas a lot more recognition, give the anti-divas some recognition, and finally give the whole division something worth watching every week. No more of that dumb Emma versus Summer dance off crap. Something real, something raw, and something with emotion.

Yes, Summer was proud of her accomplishments for the day.

* * *

Chelsea sat next to Dean in his old Ford Taurus, seated fairly uncomfortably as the floors were covered with programs, papers, and protein bar wrappers. He told her countless times that she could put her feet right on anything, but it still made her nervous to think she'd accidentally put a flip-flop print right on his scripts for next week.

The pair had jammed out together for awhile, one of the few things they actually could agree on. Dean had asked her not to play Skillet though, and she respected that wish. Aside from their player spitting out some mad tunes, the trip was a quiet one. Somehow, they'd barely missed rush hour, Dean hadn't been gunned going approximately twenty or so miles over the speed limit, and they had amazingly made it halfway across Nevada already. They'd only stopped twice; once for gas, once for food. Chelsea offered to drive so Dean could rest, but he shook his head. Though she knew how to drive, she'd never actually gotten her license renewed the last time it expired. She was hardly ever home, didn't think much of it, and she supposed she didn't care much.

It took some coaxing to get Dean to travel to California with her, though. In a strange way, she was glad to have him come along, though they weren't close and they never would be.

Her calves were still sore from the three billion squats she'd done in the weight room earlier, and she stretched her legs for a minute. Dean had put her through an insane workout, followed by in-ring, followed by counter attacks, and the list kept going. She didn't really keep tabs on how long they were working together, but Chelsea was beginning to feel more and more prepared to fight that Barbie wannabe in a week.

She looked at the radio, and the time read 7:02. It was ahead by an hour, but it had still been a long few hours on the road. It seemed like a week ago when she'd carefully thought out her plan to get to California, finally catching enough nerve to ask her trainer to drive.

Dean had handed her a water bottle as she was on a stationary bicycle, doing a quick cool-down.

"I think I'd like to go to California," she brought up to him finally. He had looked at her inquisitively, and she shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't been there since…well, you know. And I kind of need to go back."

"I don't know…I mean, I know you're trying to ask me to take you without actually asking. I don't have anything scheduled until Sunday night, but Chels, you know it's probably a bad idea…"

"I just want to visit her."

Dean shot her another look, and took a drink from his own water bottle.

"I could go visit Marissa," he muttered. "We've not been doing the greatest. I could do some sucking up after the last time we talked."

"Shocker," Chelsea spat sarcastically. "Look, Ambrose, it's up to you. I need a ride, you need a pity fuck. We spend time listening to music or something. You don't have to acknowledge me whatsoever. I just really need time away from all of this chaos and drama to figure my brain out."

"Alright. I'll go. Under one condition," he held up his index finger, his face was very serious.

"What's that?"

"We can't tell Ro or Seth that we were together. Even if they suspect it, we deny it."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because, they can't know that we know each other! Are you kidding me?"

Chelsea wasn't a hundred percent on why it was such a damn secret. Probably because even his closest friends didn't know the truth. Probably because for some fucked-up, nearly unbelievable reason, she knew him better than perhaps even Roman did. Probably because he still held a lot of guilt.

As he should.

"Anything else?" she asked. Dean put his still airborne finger to his chin in thought.

"Sure. I'm not going with you to see her."

"But you are going to see her?"

"I don't know."

Chelsea was about ready to punch him in the face now. What a dick! What a tool! She had partially expected him to have a little bit more respect than he apparently did.

But she'd learned a long time ago to never underestimate people like Dean. Or Dean in general. Always using people to get a step ahead. Always hurting the ones who didn't deserve to hurt.

Some people lose diamonds when they're too busy looking at stones.


	18. Chapter 17

**A/N: I cannot stop thinking about this story! I'm writing it during break at work, I'm writing it after I am already in bed, I write it when I'm driving…(in my head, of course!) Still, I appreciate you all! Keep the guesses comin' and I'll keep throwing cliffhangers your way!**

**Warning: This chapter has some Fifty Shades of Gray kind of stuff. If you don't like it, please skip it, but review anyways. :)**

* * *

Chelsea couldn't believe that she was headed back to the real world already. The past couple days had been a blur, and she would be training with Dean first thing tomorrow morning. Not that she'd let herself take a break…she'd learned the hard way that her body would hate her for taking too many days off. She took a run on the beach every day they were in southern California, the salty air reminding her of all the time she'd been there the past year.

Dean had dropped her off at a small motel, being kind enough to help her carry in her bag. She was glad that they'd parted ways after such a long drive. Aside from him being scummy, she just was very particular about her friends. And while Roman saw Dean as one of his best friends, she would only ever consider him an acquaintance. Their music was the only thing they shared anymore.

She turned a little bit towards Dean, his eyes trained on the road in front of him. Her feet were in the same awkward position as they were the last time she was in his car. Scrunched, she had to pick a wedgie bad—her yellow Spongebob Squarepants sleep shorts riding way higher than she wanted them to. Dean had laughed at her when she'd emerged from her motel room in her pajamas, but she didn't care. In her mind, she thought it'd be more comfortable for the ride. She also was pretty proud of the tan that she'd accumulated with all this outside time. The yellow really brought out the bronzed gleam.

She had also managed to accumulate another bag of luggage, which was crammed behind her in the back seat. Dean's trunk was stuck shut, so all of their crap was just jammed in the backseat. Chelsea had forgotten how easy it was to shop around here, because there was always something new and better. That meant, there were sales often, and massive sales just as much. She'd scored a red lace dress, a new black studded purse, six new tanktops (her favorite read: ice cream is cheaper than therapy), two pairs of sunglasses, and a black and olive green striped cardigan.

She'd went to visit her old friend, though very briefly. She'd spent a lot of time writing, reading, and thinking. Staying far, far away from any social media websites, she really didn't accomplish much as far as putting her relationship in perspective. Truth was, she'd had a whole lot of heartache in her life. A lot of cheating, a lot of mean people, and a lot of liars. In walked Roman Reigns, brandishing a needle and thread, ready to help her repair herself from the inside. She let him get into her head, and he knew a lot of the sick shit Jeff had pulled way back when. But then, she finds out that he hasn't been completely honest. If he just happened to let his infidelity to his ex-girlfriend slip his mind, what else wasn't true?

She wondered if this whole thing was some sick kind of bet. She'd seen it in the movies a billion times: star athlete makes a bet that he can get the nerdy girl to date him/sleep with him/become prom queen. Fuck, what if she'd made a terrible mistake? She supposed the only way she could know for sure was ask…

"Dean, I don't mean to ask you because I know it's none of your business. But what is Roman doing like…with me? Is he just fucking with me?"

Dean gave a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "What is with you thinking that everyone you meet is out to get you? I mean, I don't get it myself why he's so fond of you. You're the exact opposite of the typical housewife sort."

"Yeah, well. That's not how you always felt," she snapped back, crossing her arms. She suddenly felt chilled, her thin black t-shirt doing nothing to warm her up.

"You're right, but I grew up. I do need the wifey material now, not the kind of girl who flashes a security guard to get into a Buckcherry concert.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Dean, that was once!" Jeesh, tell something to someone and you never knew who was going to find out your most regrettable secrets.

He smiled back. "Seriously, though. I think you and Ro are a good match. Whatever it is, the differences, the oddball meshing well, it's working. He's looking better than ever in the ring, and so are you. But stop letting your insecurities eat at you! Why would he be trying to deliberately hurt you? He isn't Jeff."

She smacked him in the shoulder for mentioning that blue-haired bastard. "I know that. It's just…well, I heard something…"

Dean nodded, as though he had an ah-hah sort of moment. "Now I know what this is about. You should ask Roman the truth, not me."

"He lied about it," she mumbled, biting her lip. "Well, not really lied. He just didn't' tell the whole truth."

"So let me guess. You finally heard through the rumor mill that Roman's this big, nasty cheating piece of shit, right?"

Chelsea shrugged, flexing her feet as far as they could go without reaching the gross floor. "I mean, kind of. He cheated on Alicia Fox?"

Flicking his turn signal, Dean checked his blindspot. "Again, it might be easier for you to talk to him about this. Not me. I'm no middle party. You should ask him about it, and if you want to make it work with him, you will. But basically, yes, he cheated on Alicia."

"What happened?"

"Well, it was the kind of relationship where they hated each other's guts. They were on and off again more than a hooker's g-string. At first, it was something that hurt him. But eventually, he stopped caring. That woman was amazingly manipulative, though, and always ended up prying her way back into his life.

"Eventually, she sat him down and had the talk. The one that's like, I want you to meet my mama and daddy, I want a gigantic ring, a thousand person wedding, a five-star hotel and a beach stay for our honeymoon. But at that point, Roman just wasn't interested. She just played him over and over, and he was just tired. He doesn't want anything like that. He's a simple guy.

"But anyways, I'm not saying it was the right thing to do, but it's what happened. He went out after a house show one night, we got him drunk as fuck on Patron silver shots, and he met this girl. She was decent looking, really nice, but also really trashed. So they ended up making out, he felt her boobs, and that was that. But unfortunately, we were out with a whole bunch of people, and everyone knew about it within an hour. Alicia called him in a fury, ready to gouge his eyes out with her cat claws. Screamed for a week about how he ruined all their plans, didn't care about anyone but himself, blah blah blah. He was just done, and decided that his career was the love of his life. But then, you waltzed back into the WWE in your damn rubber shoes and for whatever reason, captured his attention."

Chelsea felt a weight being lifted off from her shoulders. Okay, so it wasn't the greatest that he hadn't told her the whole reason he'd ended things with Alicia. On the other hand, she had a rougher past, and right now, she still had pieces of hers that she wasn't quite ready to share. Maybe soon. She made the mental note that she would try that talking thing that is required in relationships and ask Roman why he didn't tell her the whole truth while she was nothing but honest.

Making meaningless chatter for a little while, Chelsea ended up conking out and falling into a deep sleep while Dean was trying to drag out details about what she wanted for her upcoming birthday—to which she replied, "To have a happy one."

* * *

"_Happy birthday, Chelsea," Jeff had bent down to kiss her, his green eyes ominous beneath his heavy black painted face. He stuck his hand into her hoodie pocket, pulled her closer, and gave her a sloppy, forced kiss. He pulled her hair to get her to come closer, his breathy, raspy voice making her toes tingle. "A full gram to split. You and me. Then later, I'll give you a great birthday present." In a swift movement, he grabbed her by her ass, slipping his hands up her destroyed denim skirt, pulling her closer to his groin. "You are so fucking sexy. Tonight, you're all mine."_

_Jeff went on to compete in his match. The bag of coke was heavy in her sweatshirt pocket, and it probably looked a bit awkward. She quickly took off her sweatshirt, stuffed it in her tote bag, and went about her business. She'd gotten a hundred texts from Nat and The Bellas, asking if she would like to go out for a few birthday drinks. After Jeff's maneuver, did she want to? Okay, kind of. But she really, really wanted Jeff…_

_Things never work out the way you plan, though. She'd tried her damnest to ignore her friends, but they kidnapped her directly after the show, forcing her into the back of Natalie's car. She gave a quick text to Jeff, asking him to come get her in awhile, that she wanted him just as bad as he wanted her, and that, of course, she loved him._

_His reply was, "K. LMK." His use of acronyms meant he was already annoyed. But she could tell him later that she didn't want her friends to think that anything was going on. It was a good enough reason. Maybe if she just sucked his dick for awhile, he'd forgive her more quickly._

_But a night out with Nikki Bella was never short-lived, and she had every mixed drink handed to her, more shots than Lebron James made in one game, and every beer on tap. To say the least, her friends had gone hard for her, and she had to admit, it felt awesome to have someone there besides for Jeff._

"_You needed this, girl," a very drunk Brie said to her, giving her a goofy hug. "You spend way too much time kooked up. It's your damn birthday!"_

_Natalie had given her a hug, a big, wet pink kiss on her cheek, and told her she was happy that she had let them celebrate with her. She had given her an awesome gift basket earlier in the evening of all her favorite things: new teal hair dye, a pair of black flip-flops, Raisinettes, purple nail polish, three tubes of liquid eyeliner, and other odds and ends. _

_She was never happier to have such a good friend. _

_They ended up staying out til bar close, and Nat had called TJ to give them rides back to the hotel. There were six missed calls and 22 text messages, a majority from Jeff, two from her mom. _

_She stumbled to Jeff's hotel room, trying to knock as quietly as possible on his door so that only he would hear the rapping of the wooden door. She didn't need any of his neighbors peeking out to see who was walking around at nearly 3 in the morning. _

"_It's unlocked," she had heard a voice say, and Jeff was sitting at the tiny table next to the bed, a serving tray and razorblade already ready to start doing lines._

"_I thought you'd forgotten about me," he said. She couldn't believe that he wasn't throwing things across the room, ready to pull a knife on her._

"_I could never," she was slurring her words, already peeling off her skirt and stepping out of it, revealing her lace underwear._

_She slid on his lap, dumping about a quarter of her plastic baggie on the tray. She could already feel Jeff getting hard for her, and even if she wasn't drunk, it would make her giddy. She turned, straddling him, biting his lip, his neck, grinding against his basketball shorts._

"_I fucking want you, Chels," he growled, "But first…" he handed her a tiny straw, indicating he was ready to do some lines—not have sex. _

"_But baby, we have plenty of time for that…" she whined, and Jeff stood up abruptly, and she slid under the table and on to the floor._

"_We would have had more time if you didn't sit out getting drunk with a bunch of sluts, dressing like a god damn nickel whore," he was getting red with anger now. "Let's just do this shit, and I'll get the fuck out of here. I don't know why I even bother with you anyways, you will never be half the woman I need."_

_Chelsea hid her tears when Jeff had stepped out for a quick smoke after doing countless lines. She hated what she'd become, hated how she let this fucker manipulated her, and hated how she never knew which version of Jeff she'd be getting. The decent human being? The total asshat? It was always a mystery, and she was getting frustrated by it. Maybe she should just cut ties with him. Yes, that was for the best…she should be focusing on going after the Divas belt, finally competing with Beth Phoenix. Right now, she wouldn't even qualify to polish the Glamazon's ring boots._

_Jeff came back in, the string to his basketball shorts in his hands._

"_I've got an idea," he said to her, his mischievous grin taking up half his face. "I don't know if you're going to like it, but we're going to try." _

_ And naturally, she let him do whatever he wanted with her heart, body, and mind. She ended up getting her hands tied behind her back, while Jeff slid his fully erect penis into her dampened folds. She cried out, and he muffled her cry with his hand. He started out slow, the way he knew she liked, but as he gained momentum, he started to get rough, forcing her legs wider apart as he dove into her. Her hips were aching, and she tried to protest as he pulled her legs around his waist. She didn't know if she could even handle it anymore, this grotesque mixture of pleasure and pain. Jeff didn't care. He never really did when they'd had sex. It was more or less how it made him feel, and it was frustrating, but she was so enamored by him that she just wanted him to enjoy himself. _

"_Fuck, Chelsea, fuck!" he cried out, his teeth bared. She felt him pump into her, his nails digging into her thighs. She winced; he was deeper than he'd ever been, and she was certain she would bleed. _

_He leaned into her for a moment, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, and kissed her on the cheek._

"_Happy birthday," he said to her again, his green eyes slightly misted. He pulled out, leaving Chelsea partially naked, still tied up on the bed. "Get your ass dressed and get out of my room," he muttered, throwing her skirt at her. He looked repulsed as he took a knife and cut the tie._

"_What dresses like a whore and fucks like one?" he smiled at her, and she quickly sat up, unsure if he was being mean or not._

_When she didn't say anything, he laughed, he pushed her back down. "If she sucks like one, too, she must be one," he wielded again his dick, forcing it into her face._

_She wondered how he could keep going. But he did, and she did him the favor, only to get thrown out of his room after he came again._

"_A whore indeed," he called out to her as he threw her tote bag out the hotel room door. She prayed that nobody had heard them at all, but it was almost six a.m. already, and someone was bound to be awake…_

* * *

It was like déjà vu when Chelsea had walked into the hotel room that she'd been assigned. AJ had the week off to some kind of Comic Con thing, and Tamina was staying at a different hotel. At first, she didn't see the figure sitting at the table, sipping away on a water bottle. But when she did, she jumped out of her skin.

"What the fuck?" she said aloud, and Roman turned to see her. He had his phone in his hand, a very blank expression on his face.

The same blank expression that Jeff had often given her when she'd fucked up. She was prepared for him to yell, to fight, to tell her that he wished she'd never walked into his life. She'd heard it all before, and prepared herself for the worst. She thought up a quick couple comebacks. She'd learned a long time ago that the best way not to get your heart broken was to pretend you didn't have one.

"Chelsea," he started to rise, and she got nervous, beginning to walk backwards. She fell on to her bed, and Roman swiftly sat next to her.

"Roman," she responded quietly, flinching when his elbow brushed against hers. She was on edge, nervous, and wasn't sure what to make of this whole scenario.

"Don't act like I'm going to punch you in the face or something," he turned inward, trying to look her in the eyes. But she avoided the eye contact, pretending not to notice he was making the attempt to read her. She ran her teeth over her lip, trying to come up with something, anything, to say.

"For the way I've been avoiding you, I wouldn't be surprised if you did," she answered. She played with the hem of her Spongebob shorts, and Roman grabbed her hand. He brought it up to his lips, giving it a tiny kiss. It was an odd gesture, but she liked it. She calmed herself, realizing that he wasn't going to act rash. Roman was way too cool and calm for that, and with Dean as a character witness for him, she should know better. That was Jeff's fucky personality, not his.

"I wouldn't do that. You should know that by now. But Chelsea, we need to talk."

And with that, her heart sunk. Those were the words that every girl hated to hear, and almost always signaled the end. She took a deep breath, and Roman showed her what was on his phone.

_**Chelsea Sweetly attends Matt Hardy's Wedding, Seen with Jeff!**_ Read the headline of the article.

"Bullshit," she said quietly, rolling her eyes. She was proud to say that she was unaffected by that rumor. She didn't know Matt super-well, and had only spoken to him on rare occasion. Hell, she didn't know he had even moved on from Amy Dumas, but good for him. Chelsea wasn't sure how she could sweet-talk her way out of this one.

"Why wouldn't you answer me then?" he asked, trying to keep his tone steady. "I called you. I texted you. I missed the hell out of you."

"I didn't get very good reception."

"Alright, Chelsea. Let's try again. Let's play a game called tell the truth."

Chelsea was a mute now, and she didn't know what to say. She could tell him the actual truth—that she'd disappeared with Dean. But she'd made a promise that she didn't tell Roman that they were together. But the latter was to say yes, she went to Cameron to visit Jeff Hardy—who had even come up with that shit? But that would certainly ruin a good thing, and why would she ruin what might be the best thing she'd ever have because of something that wasn't even true?

She took a deep breath. Maybe she could tell the truth and leave out key information. That seemed like the right thing to do in this situation...

"Roman. I would rather jump into the Dead Sea naked than visit North Carolina. I've never seen Jeff's home, I've never been to any public event with him whatsoever, and I'm not cool enough with Matt to be even considered as a wedding guest. Shit, Edge probably got invited before I was even _mentioned_ in that conversation," she added, hoping it really cemented her point.

"Then where did you go?"

Now was the time that she had to think on her feet. She needed to come up with something believable, and fast. But she was never a great liar, and she was speechless again. Roman's other hand was clenched, and she could tell he was getting annoyed that she was beating around the bush. How could she lie and say she wasn't with Dean? How could she say that she was running from him? That she was angry that he hadn't told her that he wasn't as perfect as she'd thought? That he'd done the scummiest thing anyone could ever do to someone?

"Chelsea, say something."

But the words wouldn't come out.


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: Come on, Chelsea, say something!**

* * *

Roman watched Chelsea intently as the wheels were turning. She was weighing her options here, and he didn't really know what to think of this whole thing. The past few days were absolutely boring, and the fact that no matter what he tried, she'd ignored every call and text didn't sit well with him. That wasn't something like her, and he could only imagine what in the world, or who, had gotten into his girlfriend's head.

He didn't believe at all these nasty rumor sites. She had no reason anymore to think, dream, talk, or wish for Jeff Hardy. He had done a little bit of investigative research himself, and Matt Hardy had already been married to Reba for about a month already. Although he had felt like he was creeping pretty hard through Twitter posts and websites like the Bleacher Report, he was happy to see that he really had no reason to doubt her. That meant the original posting was completely legitimate: She'd disappeared with his best friend, not bothering to tell Roman exactly where they were headed or why. This disappearing act was not going to go unnoticed. He figured he'd give her the chance to explain herself, but the way she was dodging the bullet was beginning to piss him off. If she didn't say something soon, give him any reason to have faith that this was going to go somewhere in the long run; he was afraid he might do something incredibly stupid.

"I just," she started, her voice weak and crackly. She was nervous, and he watched her start playing with the hem of her ridiculous Nickelodeon shorts. She probably knew she looked like a thirteen year old kid, but the fact that she didn't mind just drew Roman in even more. This girl was something else.

"Just what?" he felt like he was pulling teeth here.

"I had to get away, you know?"

"From what?"

"From everything." Her shorts must've been damn interesting. He lightly touched her cheek, forcing her to look him in the eyes, a gesture she'd been avoiding this whole time.

"Chels, quit being ridiculous," he pulled her in, gently kissing her lips. "All I want is to know what is going on. I don't want to lose you, and end this before we really even got started."

Chelsea sighed a long sigh. She flopped herself on her back, still clearly not coming up with the right words.

"From the drama, from Natalie, from all these damn people getting married, from training…" she was listing things off now, continuing not to mention the real purpose she had left. Roman knew she was bullshitting still.

"From me."

She slightly turned so that she could see him better, and he laid next to her, his eyes focused on her. "I don't know why you're running from problems that are only in your head," he said to her, and he could hear the edge in his own voice. He hoped he didn't come across as a huge asshole, but he was sure he had.

"Problems in my head?" she said through gritted teeth. "I have one shithole of a past, Ro, and we've only scraped the tip of the iceberg! Sure, I did drugs, that's bad. I had a bad habit, a bad influence. But what about the rest of me? I have told you nothing but the truth from my own perspective this far, but can you say the same? So don't tell me it's in my head!"

She was talking quickly, furiously now, and something in her face changed as she sat up.

"Yeah, but if you weren't with Jeff, why beat around the bush?" he grumbled. "Anyone would think that you were doing something you're not supposed to. Besides, I'm sure if Jeff called and wanted you, you'd be on the first flight to Cameron."

Now Chelsea was blotchy with pink and red, and Roman knew she was ready for a fight. Whatever, if accusations were going to make her talk, then so be it. Her eyes flashed to him, and she opened her mouth, shutting it again quickly, and tried again.

"First of all, quit being an asshole. I have accepted that I have to let go of Jeff because it's never going to happen, and you know what? That's okay! Because when I was with you, it made everything different. It makes me different, and I know now that what I thought was love was nothing but a mess, at best. It's not about me right now, though. Roman, you lied to me," she finally said. "I told you a lot of shit I'd gone through. I told you how I felt about dishonest people, and how one of my dearest friends had gotten her heart ripped out of her chest. You don't have to tell me everything about your life, Ro. But why wouldn't you want to?"

Shit. Roman was busted. It's not that the story with Alicia was that big of a deal, because it was a really long time ago and the two were just….done. Regardless, Roman felt as if a brick had been dropped on his head. He hadn't said much about his past relationship, and though she never said he lied to her about how things ended with Foxy, he already knew that someone had expanded on it more than he had. Most likely Summer, trying to start more setbacks.

Couldn't anyone just mind their own business?

"Chels," he said slowly, trying to piece together his own monologue. She was right; he had been nixing parts of his own past while she was nothing but open about her own. "The person I used to be is much different than the one you know now. When I was younger, I had no idea what I wanted. I just wanted to be wrestling, but the relationships and stuff? I didn't have time for that. Alicia sure did, though. But we didn't mesh well at all, despite what she thought. We argued constantly, she laid on the pressure to get me to propose, and I realized that I didn't really like her. Not like you should like someone that you wanted to be with. If I could have just come to terms with that straight away, I'd have ended things properly—"

"And not cheated," Chelsea whispered, wiping a streaky black tear off from her face. She looked right past Roman now, as if he wasn't even there. As if she didn't want him to be there.

"Right," Roman responded. "I should've told you myself. It's not one of my proudest moments, and I truly didn't want you to think any less of me. I guess my philosophy was to not bring the rocks from a past relationship to build a new one—it just ends up looking like the same house. That has been in the past for a long, long time now, and I admit, I'm happy that it got to me where I am right now. To you." He watched her mouth twitch as she tried to hide a small smile.

After a moment, Chelsea looked back to him. "So, was the girl you'd met at the bar ever anything to you?"

Roman quickly shook his head. "Not at all. I've only ever seen her that one time, never shared contact information or anything besides some spit and our first names," he tried to lighten the mood, and Chelsea stirred uncomfortably. "I really only remember that it felt like I'd kissed Seth, because it was strange, awkward, and we had no chemistry whatsoever."

Chelsea smiled now, and he figured she'd just mentally pictured him and Seth making out. Sick.

She put her head on his shoulder now, beginning to calm down. He could tell she still wasn't happy, but at the same time, wouldn't it be unfair of her to pass judgment?

"I've never felt anything like I feel now," he took her hair from the loose ponytail it was in, running his fingers through the black and red. "I had no idea how much of an effect you would have on me. I never realized that I was maybe too serious, didn't put in enough time for fun; for the simple little things. Then you, in your black flippy shoes, come and shake up everything for me."

Chelsea laughed, folding her fingers into Romans, and the pair fell backwards again on the bed.

"I know you were with Dean. But why?" Roman said, and he wanted to kick himself. Way to change the subject, when all he wanted to do was finally tell Chelsea that he'd officially fallen for her. He was hopeless. He was in love.

Chelsea thought for a moment. "How do you know?" she said, but he was sure she knew the answer. At least, she had a good shot at guessing the answer.

"Well, Summer Rae broke into my room. And, well, that news was all over the Internet five minutes after you turned out of the parking lot."

Chelsea looked confused. She probably hadn't realized that every move she made was watched by the whole WWE Universe now, even those little moments that she thought were private probably weren't.

"He wanted to visit Marissa," she said simply, watching Roman carefully. She seemed to be walking on eggshells, like maybe she wasn't giving him the full story. That made sense, though; Chelsea had some roots in California, having lived there for the past year or so.

"And…you wanted to meet this fabulous woman?"

Chelsea smirked. "Marissa thinks she's fabulous. Dean got in way over his head with that one. But maybe that's what he gets for being a douchebag," she suddenly looked away, and Roman sensed that she felt awkward again.

"Just because he's one of my oldest friends doesn't mean I won't agree," he said simply. "He's changed a whole lot."

Chelsea shrugged. "I just see him for what he is, and I call 'em like I see 'em. He's a tool."

"You know what I see when I look at you?" Roman was on his stomach now, and inching towards Chelsea. He wanted to take the focus off from Dean and put more emphasis on the fact that they were finally together, after a long hiatus. He put a finger to her lips, and her eyes widened as he kissed her gently, and then trailed kisses down her neck, stopping at her collarbone.

"I see a free spirit. I see everything I wish I could be. I see a threat to the bimbos that lack in talent. I see a lot of black makeup. But Chelsea, I see the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"Ro, you don't really mean tha—"

"I love you, Chelsea."

* * *

_"I promise, one day, someone is going to hug you so tightly that all of your broken pieces are going to stick back together," Lennon was looking in the mirror, getting ready for the day. Her fiancé was stopping by later for visiting time, and Lennon had been trying to look her best all morning. Their tiny room looked excellent, was fully cleaned, both beds made._

_It was the first time Chelsea was going to meet this mystery man, and Lennon had asked her to lay off the black makeup, just for the day._

_"He hasn't seen me totally sober in awhile," she smiled. She bent down and kissed her grandmother's old rosary, which was lying on her dresser. Since she'd been here, she'd started focusing more on religion and salvation, turning to Christian-themed music and dumping her prior thoughts and feelings about organized religion._

_She was taking this a little too seriously, Chelsea thought, but whatever trips her trigger. She had fallen into the endless pit of drugs and alcohol herself when her band made a big flop of a record. Depressed, she picked up the Bible one day and started reading the Psalms. Since then, the change in her was unbelievable, life finally returning to her face again._

* * *

"I…" Chelsea choked on her words for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I love you, too, Roman," she spoke, and her voice was shaking. She was afraid to say those words. All the time she'd spent with Jeff, the feeling was never mutual. So to be falling in love with someone who was also falling for her was an entirely new feeling, and a scary one. She'd seen what love does to people, how it makes them crazy, and it doesn't always have the result it should.

"Don't be afraid to tell me, Chels. I've been waiting to hear it for too long." He kissed her collarbone again, his eyes lost in hers. "You're so beautiful," he murmured again as he kissed her passionately, throwing every emotion he could into his mouth.

Chelsea wasn't sure how long they were there together, kissing and giggling, letting their hands wander, their skin brushing against each other, giving her an electric feeling that was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Her lips were sore, but still, she longed for more. There was plenty of time for kissing, she decided. She let Roman fall again next to her, both of them staring at the ceiling as they caught their breaths.

Together, they laid there in silence, and Roman's breathing slowed. Chelsea listened to the quiet melody of breaths as she, too, begin to drift away. She was in the stage where she wasn't sleeping, but was dreaming. The state of her mind that still scared her more than anything.

* * *

_It started out a nice day, and Dean had pulled up to the iron gates. Chelsea was holding the flowers tightly in her hand, suddenly getting nervous to see her old friend. She was annoyed that Dean wouldn't come along, but she supposed the privacy would be alright._

_She walked until she found the right place—there she was. Kneeling down, Chelsea told Lennon about Roman, and Dean, and how she finally felt that her life was on track. About how cruel and unfair life was. How sorry she was for everything, and that as much as she wanted to do the right thing and forgive everyone who had wronged her, she couldn't. She told Lennon about Natalie and the Bella twins, Summer Rae and Naomi. Though she knew Lennon probably didn't care, yet she told her all of this anyway. It had been a long, long time since they'd spoken. Though Lennon never replied, she always listened intently, never making Chelsea feel stupid for how she felt._

_"I miss you, Len. I've been thinking about you a lot lately, been listening to the CD you sent for my birthday last year. My birthday's right around the corner again, and for once, I think it might be a happy one."_

_No reply._

_That was okay. The wind was starting to blow harder now, the sun barely peeking out of the overcast. It looked like a storm was coming. She bid her friend goodbye, let herself out of the gate, and walked down to the corner. She passed an ice cream cart and she gave the keep a dollar, receiving a vanilla cone. Across the street was a nice park, and she sat at one of the picnic tables, watching moms and dads chase their little ones around on the equipment. On the other side of the park, it looked like a wedding ceremony; and in the far distance, she could see the ocean._

_Everything was serene, and she contemplated how simple life should be, but wasn't._

_She contemplated why bad things happen to good people. It still bothered her to this day; it should be her who had everything stripped away from her._

_A car honked and she turned, seeing Dean waving at her._

_She got into his car, putting her feet up out of habit._

_"Did she answer all of your questions?" he asked, starting back towards the city. He was dressed neatly, his shirt was tucked into his black trousers. Dean's hair was gelled to do some awful swooping motion. She figured he had a date with Marissa for dinner. For a moment, she wished it was still the Dean she'd met so long ago, wearing a band t-shirt and faded jeans. But people, she supposed, handled bad things differently…_

_"She never answers them. She only listens."_

* * *

Chelsea woke up to Roman coughing, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his chest.

She instantly bolted towards him. His face was anguished, and she knew he was in pain.

"What's wrong? Ro, are you okay?"

Roman nodded, grabbing for his bottled water that was still on the small table. She got it for him, watching him gulp it down quickly.

"What happened?" she asked after he'd downed the whole thing. "It looked like you were having a heart attack!"

"I'm not sure," Roman said groggily. My shoulder's been bothering me for awhile…"

"You need to see the trainer, first thing in the morning!"

"I'll be fine, Chelsea. It wasn't even my shoulder, but my collarbone… I think I choked on my own spit."

"In your sleep?" she asked skeptically. She was still sleepy herself, but this whole episode woke her up enough to know that he wasn't making a whole lot of sense.

"I do that when I snore," he replied, and she took his hand, urging him to lay back down with her.

"If you have any issues besides snoring, promise me you'll go and see the trainer. Don't' lie," she whispered into the dark, and Roman put an arm around her, now spooning her.

"I promise you, I would if I had to," he whispered.

Chelsea hoped that he wasn't lying by omission again. That looked like a whole more than just an accidental spit-swallow.

* * *

**Oh man, is Roman okay? Here's a sneak peek for the next chapter... **

_**"Chelsea? This is John. Laurenitis. Hi, good morning. Don't mean to bother you so early, but Mrs. McMahon-Levesque requested to call you immediately. Following your training session this morning, please report to conference room 120B at the Buena Vista Hotel; she had decided to film a vignette for Monday Night Raw for your debut on Smackdown. Have your hair and makeup already ready, but don't worry about what to wear. We're going to the candy shop."**_

_**Chelsea deleted the message, watching as the little voicemail icon disappeared on her phone. What in the world? A short clip to gain more momentum for her match against...Summer Rae? Okay, so it was kind of cool; but she was nervous now. Maybe Stephanie had a whole lot more faith in her than she had in herself.**_


	20. Chapter 19

**A/N: Yes, everything is quite vague but a lot of people are beginning to grow more curious. I really love reading your reviews just as much as you enjoy this story, please don't be shy! If you love it, tell me, if you hate it, hey…tell me! In lieu of the Memorial Day holiday, this is gonna be a nice, long update. And a good one.**

* * *

"Summer does a lot of slick moves. Or so she thinks," Dean had showed her a quick clip of Summer's most recent match against Emma on his phone. "She also fights kind of dirty. Expect to lose a bit of hair."

Chelsea was sweating like a pig already, and they'd only been doing falls and counters so far. By the end of the session, he'd wanted to wrestle her, one on one, to see if she could transition a match and look good doing it. He had asked Seth to come down to ringside in about two hours to videotape them so Chelsea could see what she excelled at and what looked messy.

"As I said before, though, her moves are really stiff. Traditional, not a whole lot of charisma, and plain. The only possibility that this is going to be a good match is on you."

They sparred for a minute, then Dean called for a short water break. She grabbed her water bottle from the apron, tossing Dean his own. He took a drink, missing his mouth almost entirely. Chelsea could see the lightbulb go on in his head, and she knew he'd come up with a new way to torture her.

"I want you to get on the top rope," he stated, pointing her into the nearest corner.

"No way," she responded, shaking her head.

"Chelsea, you can, and you will. That is barely off from the mat. How many divas do you know take the chance on the top?"

She glanced over the ringpost again, and she was nervous as ever. "What exactly should I do?"

"We'll do something simple. I'm going to go ahead and do a basic clothesline, and watch my landing." Dean was already perched at the top, looking like a gargoyle. He jumped down, clotheslining an invisible person. He did it once again, flying to the middle of the ring, landing somewhat gracefully on his feet.

"You're much smaller than me, so you can make this look prettier. Get on up there!" She started up, her foot slipping on the bottom rope. She caught herself, but the fear of falling was on her mind. How the hell could Jeff take the crazy dives that he'd taken? She was getting nervous to do something so ridiculously simple.

The first time she tried was terrible. And second, and third. Dean told her to quit shaking, but how could she not? One wrong footing would lead to a broken ankle, easily.

He made her do it again and again. Over and over. No stopping. When he thought she'd gotten the hang of it, he placed himself directly in front of her, a target for her to aim for.

The first time, she missed by a few inches. Then, she overshot. It took a few tries, but she finally made slight contact with him, and he hit the mat with perfection.

"Perfect! Let's do it again!" Chelsea grumbled, but she already knew by now that her trainer was all about perfecting every single move. Even though she knew it was a good thing, and she should be grateful that Dean really did want to see her do well, she was ready to move on to the next move set. Of course, she had no such luck; instead practicing fifty more flying clotheslines.

All too soon, Seth came down to the ring, his cell phone in hand. Even worse, Roman was at his side, too, ready to be a spectator.

"I didn't know we were going to have an audience," Chelsea said stupidly, because if she got the butterflies for these two, she would certainly botch everything on Smackdown. This was nothing, she supposed, compared to the thousands that'd be watching her compete. If she sucked, it would be on the web everywhere before she even made it to the viewers at home. Chelsea couldn't chance it, promising herself that she was going to put on an excellent match, no matter who her opponent was.

Roman rang the invisible bell, and Chelsea smirked as Dean took a lunge for her. She ducked under him, but he was quick; and turned to face her just in time for an awesome spinning heel kick. He went down, and she bent to pick up his right knee and bash it three times against the canvas.

Out of nowhere, he managed to turn himself around, using an armbar to sweep her onto her back. She got up quickly and faced him again, he giving her a quick right hand. "Make sure you're selling these moves," he said through gritted teeth as he whipped her in the corner. She put a foot up to stop herself from smashing against the post, using it as leverage to give him a flying cross-body.

"There we go, Chels!" she heard Seth cheering from the side, and she could feel Roman beaming. She was now on Dean, giving fists of fury. Unfortunately, Dean was strong, and he pushed her backwards, and she fell on her ass. He pulled out a dropkick, and missed her just slightly. But she fell backwards, selling like a champ.

It went back and forth like that for awhile, and finally Seth told Dean to let her win. "Flying clothesline," he muttered, and it would've been totally inaudible to anyone but her. "Don't think, just do," he said quickly as he set himself up for her to reverse him again.

She flung him into the ring post, and he groggily left the corner, slowly turning around. She was already perched on the top turnbuckle, hitting him with the clothesline they'd practiced a hundred times just a while ago.

He was down, and she tucked him into the modified hold that they'd created together, "Sweet Dreams." Lo and behold; Dean Ambrose tapped out.

Seth and Roman hooted and hollered as they slid into the ring, both of them on either side of Chelsea so that they could raise her hands in victory.

"And your winner by submission….Chelsea Sweetly!" Seth yelled out, causing a few people to clap, too. She hadn't realized it, but they'd gained a fair amount of attention from other superstars roaming the area.

"Girl, that was great!" yelled Naomi from the apron, and Chelsea couldn't help but feel good that she'd gotten her approval. A few of the superstars clapped her on the shoulder and said to Dean that he should open his own school someday.

She gave her trainer a loose hug before they left the ring, hoping she didn't leave a sweat mark on his gray t-shirt.

"I'm proud of you, Chels," Dean said to her. "Not sure what Maryse ever taught you, but I feel like you've accomplished more with me than ever before. Not tooting my own horn, of course."

"Of course," she rolled her eyes, and the four started towards the back.

"Seriously, everyone's going to know that you kicked ass in about ten minutes," Seth spoke up, an Chelsea knew he was right. "Summer is gonna wish she was actually training herself instead of bleaching her brain."

Chelsea laughed, giving her goofy friend a side hug.

"Even if you lose, you are going to out-do everything she throws your way," Seth continued. Chelsea tuned out his chatter; he was like a kid that didn't know when to stop.

* * *

Once backstage, they all disbanded, leaving Chelsea and Roman alone. He pulled her into an empty, dark room that was still yet to be found. Her skin was still slick with sweat, but he didn't seem to care—he pushed her up against the inside wall, pressing himself tightly to her body. He instantly pulled her in, each kiss becoming more needing than the last. They were magnetic; lips, kisses, tongues, and breaths taking control, leaving Chelsea in an almost drunken state. She didn't want him to stop exploring each part of her, discovering every move and touch that made her skin prickle with goosebumps. His hands roamed over her curves, and he held her by her hips as he stopped for a moment, letting their heads rest against each other's.

"Roman," she said slowly as she caught her breath, "I don't want to stop…." Roman pulled away and looked into her eyes, and she slowly nodded. She wanted him, right now. She lusted for him more than humanly possible, and even though she had been mindful to take things slower than dial-up internet connection, she wanted to give everything she had to Ro. At least, all that she had left.

"Chelsea," he said curiously. "Believe me, I don't want to stop right now either. But I think it'd mean more if it wasn't in an empty storage room."

Damn, double damn. She knew he was right. It wasn't fair to either of them, no matter how much they'd wanted to throw down right there on the floor. Chelsea was ready to get her halo dirty, and Roman had already lit a pit of fire in her soul. He looked at her, and she stared back. For a long time, they stood there, lost in the moment. Even though she was certain Roman was ready, too, she already knew that it just wasn't going to happen. Not yet.

"Come on, baby," he took her hand in his, kissing the apple of her cheek before yanking her out of the room. "I promise, when the timing is right…" he trailed off, making sure not to say too much as they walked past the slew of crewmembers and a handful of jobbers.

He slipped into the Shield's locker room, flicking the light on and signaling Chelsea to follow. Next thing she knew, the pair stood in front of the tiny sliding shower door, and Roman pulled off his shirt, revealing his muscles. She couldn't help but notice his collarbone was looking particularly inflamed, like perhaps he'd pulled something; or worse, broken something.

Nervously looking up at him, she wasn't sure that this was a good idea. She was ready to sleep with him just five minutes ago, but showering seemed way more personal, and she worried that he'd be analyzing every aspect of her body. _What a fucked up world we live in_, she thought, _where people were more afraid of showering than about sleeping with someone and letting them have a part of you that you should only share with someone you love_. Trying to tear her eyes away from his fantastic chest and abdominal muscles, she looked down at her feet, still clad in her short wrestling boots.

"Chels, look at me," he said, and as soon as she did, he took one giant swoop to remove her black and pink compression tank top. She bit her lip as she stood there in her sports bra, her nasty scar glaring Roman in the face. It's not that he hadn't seen it, obviously he had, but she wondered if he was thinking about Jeff Hardy right now, and the story about how she'd gotten it to begin with.

Surely, that was a mood-killer.

But Roman didn't miss a beat as he yanked down her spandex shorts, her seamless panties coming down with them. She stepped out of them quickly, awkwardly pulling her bra off, instantly cooling at least twenty degrees. She stood now in only her wrestling boots, which Roman bent down to untie. She steadied herself on the seemingly healthier shoulder as she helped Ro along in the process.

"Don't be so afraid of me, Chelsea," he said quietly as one boot came off, her sock still inside. "There's nothing to be shy for."

"But I'm naked," she said, feeling humiliated. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her own skin before; but then, she couldn't really remember the last time, or if she ever had, let someone see her naked while stone-cold sober.

"How else would you shower?" he joked. The other boot came off, and Roman twisted the faucet quickly, the water beginning to pour out of the shower head. He motioned Chelsea to get in, and Chelsea could feel his eyes on all parts of her body. She silently celebrated the fact that she'd shaved the day before, but then wondered what she'd use as body wash. Her regular cinnamon sort was still in the diva's locker room, and really, Old Spice didn't sound so appealing…

Her thoughts were interrupted when Roman stepped in, and she forced herself not to look down. She knew he was hard, but she pretended not to notice.

Roman washed her hair for her, using his own Pantene Pro-V, which she made fun of him mercilessly for. She was glad he used actual bar soap, too, so she didn't have to smell like a walking douchebag. He explored her body using only the white soap, letting it slide between her breasts, along her shoulders and crevices of her own ab muscles, the insides of her legs….

Shit. Every time he touched her like this, so carefully and modestly, all she wanted was to let him take her. She supposed in many relationships, the couple didn't wait long to have sex, and it made her wonder if they were waiting too long. But Roman never acted like they had, and they were overall in a good place right now. She silently cursed herself because as always, she was overthinking things.

She let Roman rinse the bubbles off from her, and she was ready to return the favor. She washed all of him, from his chest to the just as glorious backs of his legs.

'Did you know you have absolutely no flaws?" she teased as she wound her fingers in his wet hair. She gave him a sweet, delicate kiss and he laughed.

"Baby, neither do you," he said gruffly, pulling her naked body to his. "You are everything I've ever wanted," he said between kisses on her neck. "And one day, I'll prove it."

He pawed at her naked ass, their hips brushing against each other as he did. She could feel his full length pressed up against her clit now, and an electric buzz shot through her body. She was beyond ready for him now, and even her body knew it. And by the way he was moulding himself to her, he was ready to lift her up against the shower and—

_Slam!_ The locker room door opened, and Dean and Seth were talking away, not realizing that they had walked in on their friend and his girlfriend.

"Fuck," the pair instantly broke apart, and for the first time, Chelsea realized the water was running colder. Roman was annoyed, but Chelsea whispered that she could handle it. She slipped out of the shower and into a starchy white bath towel. Her hair was still dripping wet, and she quickly used a corner of the towel to smudge her eyes to ensure she didn't look like a drowned raccoon.

She walked into the main locker room, and Seth turned to her, his mouth open in shock.

"Chels! Shit, I'm sorry, we didn't know—"

She put up her hand to silence the speed demon, shaking her head. "Summer Rae was in the diva's locker room and I am so not ready to see her face. At least not without smashing it in. So Roman offered a shower here," she smiled using all of her teeth, her eyes darting to Dean, who wouldn't look at her.

Wuss.

"Right on," Seth nodded, accepting her pathetic explanation. "Me and Dean will excuse ourselves for a minute so you can get yourself dressed. And hey, by the way? If that's your phone on the floor, it's going crazy."

She looked on the floor, seeing her phone blinking. That was odd…she didn't remember having it with her. Most her things, give or take a few items that she'd left at Roman's awhile back, still were nestled in her duffel. For a quick minute, she'd realized she hadn't brought anything with her, just her stinky, sweaty work out clothes. But she remembered earlier, Roman had texted her to let her know he'd grabbed the handful of stuff she'd left, and that it'd be in his locker room. She breathed a sigh of relief. Good thing Ro had brought the items she'd left, because otherwise it'd be a long, miserable walk to the diva's locker room from here.

Walk of shame, much?

The two goons left her standing there in the towel, her phone staring at her. How the hell did it make it to their locker room? Unless…someone took it? But who would? She didn't believe Roman would have any reason to go through it, and Seth could not care less what she said to who. So that would leave Dean. But their rocky relationship had been turned from boulders to gravel, and that didn't really seem like something he'd do, either, because they had been nothing but honest in their intentions since she'd made her return.

Roman emerged, his own towel wrapped around his waist. He'd packed her things neatly in a tiny little and he handed it her way. She pulled out a pair of shorts, a black t-shirt, two pairs of underwear, socks, tennis shoes, a bra, and a faded blue tank top.

Nothing that she was looking forward to wearing, but until she got to her things, she'd make do.

She swiped her phone quickly off from the floor, noticing she had one missed call.

She also noticed that Jeff Hardy's twitter was pulled up, an ultrasound picture the last post from her rival.

She quickly closed that screen out, now sure that it was Roman who'd gone through her phone. It really bugged her that he would do something so childish; but deep in her heart she knew it couldn't have been anyone else. He had already accused her of meeting with Jeff once, and perhaps he had to see whether or not she was speaking to him or creeping on him. Shaking her mind of all the clutter, Chelsea decided she had better listen to the voice message that was left for her, wondering what in the world she'd subjected herself to tonight. She didn't recognize the number, so she pressed her ear as hard as she could to hear. As soon as she heard who it was, she groaned.

"Chelsea? This is John. Laurenitis. Hi, good morning. Don't mean to bother you so early, but Mrs. McMahon-Levesque requested to call you immediately. Following your training session this morning, please report to conference room 120B at the Buena Vista Hotel; she had decided to film a vignette for Monday Night Raw for your debut on Smackdown. Have your hair and makeup already ready, but don't worry about what to wear. We're going to the candy shop."

Chelsea deleted the message, watching as the little voicemail icon disappeared on her phone. What in the world? A short clip to gain more momentum for her match against...Summer Rae? Okay, so it was kind of cool; but she was nervous now. Maybe Stephanie had a whole lot more faith in her than she had in herself.

Chelsea was ready and gone in a flash, giving Roman a quick peck before she'd run off to fix her hair and makeup. The call was already twenty minutes ago, and she didn't want to keep everyone waiting on her. But on the other hand, she really didn't want to look like shit, either. Roman would have to wait, and she'd ask him why he'd gone through her phone when she'd have the chance. She was annoyed by him, still poking around her past with Jeff. Why couldn't he just ask her? She wasn't like him…she couldn't just blatantly lie.

* * *

"Chelsea Sweetly, I'm so glad you could join us," John Maddox turned to the dark haired woman, her hair expertly curled to look like a crazy, wild mess. Laurenitis made his way over, elbowing the current general manager.

"Don't mind him. He's a moron," said the older man, who was carrying a black coat.

They were all outside a sweet shop, with candy apples, taffy, caramels, and every sugary candy imaginable. When she'd gotten to the conference room, both Johns had already left to scope out this shop, and within minutes, she was heading downtown, too. Chelsea had really no idea what was going on, and she really didn't believe anyone had much of a clue.

An old woman in a stained apron came waddling over, her hand extended.

"So this is the girl," she said without hesitation, offering a wrinkled had. Chelsea took it, nodding. "Excellent. She's a looker, this one. My name is Ida, I own the shop. Behind me is my granddaughter, Claire."

Claire was a cute girl, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore hardly any makeup, but she really didn't need to, either. She was young, probably eighteen or so.

"Big fan, Chelsea," she said, and she was nervous.

"I'm honored," she responded, extending her hand now to the young girl.

"Alright, Chelsea, we have a half hour to pull off perfection. Put this on," Maddox gave her the black coat, which was a hundred times heavier than she'd expected. It was long, shiny black material, with an obnoxious amount of zippers.

One of the crewmembers came over with big black boots, each with a gross amount of buckles lining the sides.

"Do we even know what we're doing yet?" she asked, slipping the coat on over her t-shirt.

"I think so. Let's get a move on," Laurenitis gave her the boots, and Chelsea wrinkled her nose as she pulled them both on, teetering like she was on stilts. These were awful; made of the same cheap plastic material, and truly resembled something you might see in a porno flick.

"I feel like a gothic stripper," she whined, hoping they weren't going to have her do some crazy pole dance in the candy shop. She really didn't want granny so see her busting some moves on the counter, kicking over her chocolate-covered potato chips or whatever she might have. She wasn't normally a whiny person, but she couldn't help but think of AJ again, crying on the hotel room floor. She'd barely known the girl at the time, but she had been so disappointed in her character development…

Was Chelsea's character already going to the gutter?

"Let's put Claire behind the counter," Chelsea spoke up quickly, hoping to sway away from a strip club. Her idea was talked about for a moment, and it seemed like it was all agreed on. Claire was beaming, and Chelsea felt good knowing that one of her tiny fanbase could see firsthand the excitement of a WWE taping event. Chelsea watched as Claire and Ida scuttled to the back, grabbing a handful of clothes. When Chelsea walked into the candy shop, Claire was pulling on one of the uniforms from the back, a hot pink overall suite over a white polo.

Puke.

"We really want to make this mini-video special for tonight, Chelsea," Maddox said dully, "We want to pump up the volume with the WWE Universe. You know, so your match against Summer is actually watched."

Having never talked to Brad Maddox before, she wanted to kick him in the dick for being such an asshole. Who was this guy, and why did he act like he was so damn cool?

After what felt like forever, they began the shoot. The cameramen panned on the shop's windows, focusing on all the cakes, chocolates, caramels, gummies, and licorice whips. It slowly followed into the shop, where Chelsea's back was faced away, but Claire was seen perfectly in all of her young, pure glory. Chelsea stuck out like a sore thumb in this place, dressed like a vampire or something, but she figured the image they were trying to convey might actually be kind of neat.

"Hi, welcome to Ida's Sweet Shoppe!" Claire beamed enthusiastically. "Is there anything I can help you find?"

Chelsea clicked her fingernails against the counter in front of the other woman, glad her face wasn't on camera. It was as red as the bottom of her hair now, and this was the moment where she was supposed to say something slick. They'd told her to ad-lib, having not come up with something for her to say.

Once again, her ability was probably overestimated. She had hardly any experience in something like this, and Laurenitis should know for the most part, she was a tongue-tied fool. What could she compare candy to? It was nothing but a toothache loved by many...hmm...

"The funny thing about sweets…" she slowly started, "Is that people love them because they're pretty. They are full of sugar, they make people happy. They're so sickly…sweet. But at the end of the day, every last one of them is bad for you. You're going to wake up and realize you are sick to your stomach. In fact, you never want to see something so sweet in your life again."

"Ma'am?"

Chelsea threw her head back, letting her curls bounce. "Ah, chocolates, cupcakes, and lollipops galore. All these sweets, but wait to see what I have in store…"

"CUT!" yelled someone in the background.

Both John Maddox and Laurenitis ran up to Chelsea, congratulating her on such an excellent vignette. They'd asked where she'd heard that little sing-song rhyme she'd done, but in all honesty, she made it up. It probably sounded like something a little kid would say. But on the other hand, she still was a little kid at heart.

"Then, on the bottom of the screen, we're going to edit—"XOXO, Chelsea Sweetly," one of them dreamed, "Maybe we can actually stir things up a bit around here after all."

"We could do some music while we're panning the windows. A lullabye, something whimsical and light," answered the other. Chelsea totally tuned them out, starting to look forward to Raw.

* * *

Chelsea wasn't disappointed that for once, she didn't have to be on the announce team. But aside from her mini-vid they were showing before the Bella's match against Tamina and AJ, she didn't have anything fun to do at all. In fact, she wouldn't even appear on camera until her match against Summer Rae during the Smackdown taping.

But she had a great idea, and she was going to run it by Stephanie. If Steph wanted to turn up the heat, Chelsea was going to go ahead and pitch something that she'd thought about the whole day, since visiting the sweet shop. It wasn't traditional for her to act like such a mean bitch; not like Nat or Summer. But honestly, they deserved any and all bad karma coming their way.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the office door, greeted warmly by her boss.

* * *

The camera was a few feet behind the two blondes as they walked into the diva's locker room. They didn't even realize they had been followed as they chattered mindlessly about nothing. It was about a half-hour into the show already, and so far, pretty uneventful. The only major event was a match of Orton versus Batista at Wrestlemania...and it looked like that wasn't going to go well. The fans were pissed.

"Did you see that little production by Chelsea Sweetly?" Natalie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That whole thing was creepy. That girl seriously looks like she worships the demons of hell," she continued.

Summer laughed in agreement, then something caught her eye. "Hey, look!" she pointed to a plate of cupcakes, expertly frosted with pink frosting and huge, colored sprinkles. She went to the tag, reading it aloud, her annunciation excellent.

"To the lovely ladies of Total Divas. XOXO, E!"

"Well, I don't know about you, Sum, but I'm going to try one."

Summer was a sheep, following every move of the non-appointed leader.

"Hey, these are really—" the two women looked at each other, eyes wide. They spat out their mouthfuls, and Summer brushed off her tongue.

"Are you kidding me!" Nat cried. "These are full of sand!"

Chelsea and AJ, along with the rest of the WWE Universe, laughed mercilessly as these two blonde dummies spat her sand cupcakes out on national television.

Revenge would be sweet, after all.


	21. Chapter 20

**A/N: I know, I know, lack of updates is max sucky. But here she is, in all of her glory. In other news, I sure do love playing games and switching between the main and background stories, don't I? I know what the deal between Chelsea and Dean is, do you?**

* * *

Butterflies.

Thousands of butterflies.

That was the only thing that Chelsea could come up with as how she was feeling as she stood facing the black curtain, her heart thumping harder in her chest. In just a matter of minutes, she'd be wrestling again for the first time in a long time. She had to repeatedly tell herself that this was nothing; that she'd done this a hundred times before. She'd even fought some of the most established women during her run on NXT. Summer Rae was a dandelion in a field of roses; undoubtedly one of the least talented in-ring stars she'd ever competed against. Even the WWE Universe trusted that Chelsea Sweetly could easily outsmart her opponent on Smackdown.

That still didn't calm her nerves. Roman had been a sweetheart, popping into the diva's locker room much, much earlier in the evening when it was still vacant. He gave her a single yellow rose, wishing her all the luck in the world for her grand re-debut. He had assured her that her promo had gone over perfectly on Monday Night Raw, and the beginning of her rivalry with the ladies of Total Divas was making its rounds all over social websites.

"No matter who says what, Chels, you deserve to be here. You worked hard as hell to be here. You've earned this."

With that, Roman smushed his lips against hers, using his upper body strength to pull Chelsea as close as possible.

"I love you, Chels," he muttered between kisses.

She was pulled back to reality as Summer Rae took her place opposite of her, a strange and sadistic smile already on her face. She held both her hands up to her neck, mocking Chelsea and hinting that she'd "choke."

She's just jealous, Chelsea thought to herself. Still, the gesture didn't help out her nerves and Summer's ridiculous music started piercing through her ears. She was probably dancing down to the ring now, her blonde hair whipping back and forth with confidence, her bright and sunny ring attire catching everyone's attention with the fuschia and yellow tie-dye.

Chelsea looked down again, frustrated at her own ring attire. Okay, so it wasn't that bad; but nothing at all the glamorous pieces that she had been wearing while announcing. She adjusted her black spandex tights, making sure the ridiculous cut-outs on them weren't showing anything they shouldn't. The stylist had gone full-blown late Victoria style, her tights showing skin in some pretty risqué places. Her butt was plastered with hot pink and glittered script, reading _"XOXO, CS."_

She was glad she'd gotten her way with her shirt, though. They'd wanted to put her in a sports-bra like tank top, but she'd battled her way through that one. She didn't want to show off her nasty scar on live television. Instead, the hemline was lowered and her spandex tights became sluttier.

Whatever.

She took a deep breath as Summer did a short promo in the ring. She was talking about how she had established herself both in dance and in-ring, and how it was such a joke that Chelsea Sweetly thought she could call a few matches and think she deserved to go toe to toe with someone as well-known and prestigious as herself.

Please.

She was given the thumbs-up by one of the audio technicians, and her music began to strum. Cutting Summer Rae's rant off, she casually strolled down to the ring, her footsteps in tune with the music.

_"Take me, I'm alive. Never was a girl with a wicked mind; but everything looks better when the sun goes down."_

Chelsea snuck a glance at the fans, who seemed to be engaged in her video. She would have to thank everyone later for pulling together such a spectacular display—she looked fierce as all hell on the titantron.

She now stood on the apron, watching Summer intently through her eye makeup, hoping she looked as intimidating as she felt. The cameraman was almost up her ass as he was shooting the writing across her tights. God damn, personal bubble, dude!

But she quickly turned on her heel, leaning back against the ropes as if she were relaxing. She blew a quick kiss to the fans and flipped over the top, landing perfectly on her feet. She was certain that Dean would blow a gasket later—blah blah blah, don't get injured on your entrance trying to be a show-off. But she had to make a statement; and that she did.

The crowd had a pretty decent response, much like the response AJ got when she skipped her way to the ring. She was happy to see she already had a pretty fair following, and noticed someone in the crowd held up a sign that said "I STAND WITH CHELSEA."

Summer rolled her eyes, whipping her hair behind her as she turned away from Chelsea like she was going to walk out of the ring. Chelsea, however, caught the Barbie's elbow and wiggled her finger, mouthing "I don't think so," as she pulled her across the apron and into the post for a mad Irish whip.

Summer sold it really well, whining about how bad her back hurt. It probably actually did, but she could ice it later. Right now, they had a show to put on.

Chelsea ran at Summer, who was lounging in the corner. In a sudden burst of momentum, she was airborne, landing a heel kick against Summer's chest.

The fans cheered, and Summer slumped lower, falling to her ass.

"Show off," she muttered as she played possum.

"I'm just getting started," Chelsea yanked her up by a hand, Summer now teetering in her white boots. She kicked her in her bare stomach, and Summer was now doubled over. She was setting up the fame-asser.

But Summer moved out of the way, and Chelsea fell down the apron. As the bitch that she was, Summer pointed and laughed at her opponent, and the crowd booed her. Chelsea had hit the mat hard, and she was sure her ass was going to bruise.

In one quick sweep of her arm, Summer was no longer standing, either. Chelsea scrambled to her feet, dropkicking Summer so that she was flat on her back.

She started up the turnbuckle, knowing full-well that she was queuing the end of her match. She had debated with Stephanie when she'd found out her debut was going to be cut super-short. But Steph had assured her that her match would be a teaser, showcasing just enough to make the fans want to see more of what she could produce.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pink and black on the stage. She looked up as the Total Diva's crew got a huge crowd reaction. Natalya was in the center, and the Bella twins stood on either side of her in matching baseball-style ring attire. Eva Marie came from the back next, followed by Cameron, Naomi, and the newest woman who had signed up for the next season, Rosa.

The pack slowly made their way down the ramp, almost like a wolf pack scouting out their prey. Chelsea was surrounded, and everywhere she looked, there was yet another Total Diva.

All of the women now surrounded the ring, cheering for Summer Rae to get up. She caught Nat's eye, and started yelling to her.

"What, Summer needs you guys to win this match?" she spat, faking her frustration the best she could.

"She would win anyways, we're just her insurance policy," Natalie smirked, beginning to climb up the ring apron. The referee yelled at her to get down or she'd be sent to the back, which Natalie obeyed. Dropping down to the floor, she pretended to be innocent.

Chelsea turned her focus back to her match. Summer was up again, and Chelsea ran to the ropes to use them as leverage.

Natalie caught her ankle, and she hopped for a moment, not allowing herself to fall.

She turned and yelled at her former friend, only to be caught by a painful, stinging hook from Summer.

Bitch. That was pretty real.

Now, Eva Marie was on the apron, clapping and encouraging Summer, who was holding Chelsea by her red curls. She gave her a chop across her chest, sending her stumbling backwards to the ringpost.

Eva Marie now held Chelsea's hands so that she was trapped, Summer wailing on her, sending her fists flying.

"Hey, you!" the referee pointed at Eva Marie, who let Chelsea's hands go. She put her hands up in innocence. Chelsea stumbled to the center of the ring, tipping over. The Total Diva crew cheered as Summer Rae took a bow. The fans, on the other hand, were booing again.

_"Let's light it up…!"_

The crowd quickly shifted as they now cheered. AJ stood on the stage, the Divas championship belt up on her shoulder, a microphone in her other hand. She wore her Love Bites t-shirt and ripped shorts, her knee-high Chucks accentuating her tiny little legs.

She hushed the fans, giving them a cute, evil smile.

"You know, I don't know what it is about you guys," she started. "A while back, I dropped quite a pipebomb on you guys, calling you out for what you really were. Talentless. Fake. Lucky."

The crowd began to cheer again, a small CM Punk chant breaking out somewhere in the back.

AJ smiled again, looking down at her feet as her fiance's ever-loyal fanbase still cheered for him, despite the fact that he was certainly retired.

"When I see you all in the ring, I can't help but laugh. Summer Rae is scheduled to fight against my friend here. Total Divas? Try Total Cheaters! How much offense has she really had, without help?"

Chelsea lay still in the center of the ring, hopefully doing a decent job of pretending she'd gotten her ass rocked by Summer. She could feel a few scratches by her left ear, but otherwise, she didn't hurt at all. She was energized.

The reality stars started yelling down the ramp at AJ, who obviously couldn't hear a word they were saying.

'The funny thing is, none of you have changed. You don't hold a candle to me, and still don't deserve to lace up my Chuck Taylors. And now, you don't even deserve to buy Chelsea's eyeliner.

"You think you have it all? What do you really have? You don't like each other much. You don't know what it's like to be divas champion. You don't know what it's like to work your ass off to be where you are. You. Have. Nothing."

AJ was then joined on the stage by Tamina, her arms crossed and a solemn look stretched across her face. Layla El joined them next, followed by NXT star Emma, and a tall, ferocious darker woman who, much to Chelsea's disappointment, was definitely Alicia Fox.

"We deserve to be here, do you?"

With that, AJ threw her microphone down, leading her entourage down the ramp. Chelsea was at her feet now, but everyone was too preoccupied to notice. She whirled her opponent around quickly, catching her with a clothesline. Summer was down, and Chelsea scrambled to the top turnbuckle, blowing a kiss to the crowd, then winking at the other Total Divas, who were now definitely paying attention. She jumped, and she felt like she was flying.

Her elbow connected with Summer Rae's sternum, and she quickly stretched her into an uncomfortable finishing move; Sweet Dreams.

Summer tapped almost immediately, and Natalie signaled her followers into the ring. Now, Chelsea was surrounded. The women closed in on her, and now Natalie was in her face, jabbing her finger into her collarbone, sending her further and further back into the corner.

But in a flash, Tamina had Natalie by her hair. Natalie whipped around, starting to say something about how it wasn't nice to pull hair, before Tamina caught her a neat, quick judo kick to her chops.

The total divas slid quickly out of the ring after that, all talking trash to the remaining stars. AJ put her sneakered foot gently on Natalie's chest, making a silly muscleman pose.

Tamina and Layla raised Chelsea's hands up in the air, congratulating her on her first victory. The crowd reaction was way better than anyone had predicted. Turns out, it wasn't just the women in the locker room who were sick of Natalie and her cronies. This had turned into an epic battle of Us Vs. Them, with AJ as the unofficial leader.

"You did great, kid," Alicia Fox said to her, clapping her on the back and sliding outside the ring.

Chelsea and her allies left the ring first, the Total Cheaters still around the ring, yelling obscenities. Chelsea knew that the storylines were going to get a whole lot more personal, and for that; she was afraid. But right now, she saw huge potential for herself. She felt finally, after all her huge struggles in the past, she'd finally changed her life for the best. She was climbing to the top of the mountain.

* * *

"_You're lucky for getting called up to the main roster," Dean had said to her. "Aside from Lita and Mickie, the women's division blows."_

_"I know it. I really need to work hard to prove that I belong there just as much as they do. But what about you, when are you going to join Vince McMahon's brainwashed army?"_

_She watched as Dean shrugged. "They really want me to kick it up a notch in the indies, first. Sometimes I worry that I'm not focused enough, got my mind on other things too often. But I don't think I'd change that for the world. Make it big, or help the person I love more than life itself? More than wrestling? It's a no-brainer, really."_

Snapping out of her memory, she now sat opposite of Dean in the Shield's locker room. He had written down a short list of things that she could improve on, but she was still too hyped to listen much. Chelsea generally was able to take her former friend seriously, but for some reason, she was having a tough time today. Did he throw away his beliefs and morals just to make it big? Did he use people he cared about as stepping stones, not caring about how they felt? The latter at least, she really thought so. The proof was sitting behind those cast iron gates back in California.

"Chelsea, you're not listening to me."

She flitted her eyes to meet his, a stern gaze locked in.

"Do you ever regret it?" she found herself asking, her voice dripping with venom. She rarely had enough balls to bring up the past with Dean, since she really didn't know how he'd react. That, and she still was extremely hostile towards him, still aching for answers.

"Chelsea…" he said slowly, putting his paper down. "You know this isn't the time or place to talk about it."

"Then when is, Dean? When are you going to look me in the eye and say that you fucked up?"

"You told me yourself; it's not you I have to apologize to. And you're right."

"Was it because you wanted to be more famous? Because you wanted to wrestle the big dogs, shoot to the top along with people like Cena or Orton?"

Dean laughed now, which only aggravated the woman more. She could see that his anger was boiling now, and she had struck a nerve. "Do you see me fighting in main events Chels? No, you don't. I'm here because I deserve to be here. Just like you. Do you really think I did what I did to get a leg up in the company? If you do, that's a load of bullshit. I regret it every day, every moment, and every second. Do you think Marissa is my dream girl? Absolutely not. But I'm sticking with her because I know I deserve to be unhappy, since I will never be able to see my dream girl again!" Dean stood up, his face red, leaving her sitting alone in the locker room.

She put her hands in her face, focusing on the cool metal of the steel chair she was sitting on seeping through the cut-outs of her attire. She hadn't meant to piss her trainer off so badly, and maybe she should've approached the topic better. They never really did sit down and talk about what happened or why, although she supposed it was easier that way.

Both of them still carried a lot more hurt than she ever thought possible.

The door swung open, Seth and Roman both bouncing off the walls. They had an epic tag team match against Luke Harper and Erik Rowan of the Wyatt Family, so both of them were high on adrenaline.

"Hey, there's the girl!" Seth slid where Dean had just been sitting, giving a goofy grin to cheer her up.

"What's wrong, sweet cheeks? You have no reason in the world to be sour," he extended a hand to her, but she shied away.

"I kind of pissed off Dean," she explained, giving a weak and watered-down version of why he was storming down the arena hallway angrily.

"Dean's always got his panties in a bunch," Seth told her knowingly. "It's that stupid girl. He doesn't even like her that much."

Roman jerked his head up. "Knock it off, Seth, of course he does."

Seth rolled his eyes. "Okay, if you say so. When you two lovebirds are sleeping by each other, I have to sleep opposite of Big D. You know what he does? Mutters shit in his sleep. He doesn't talk about the wicked witch. He's always bringing up some other name. Alice, maybe? Allison?"

Chelsea froze, her heart pumping ice through her veins.

"Allison? Doesn't ring a bell," Roman said back, coming over to Chelsea and running his hand through her hair.

Of course it doesn't, Chelsea thought to herself.

She stood up abruptly, catching the two men off-guard.

"I really need to get changed," she said lamely. She turned to Roman.

"My brother comes home for the weekend. Still coming home with me?"

Roman confirmed that he was. Chelsea had to find her phone, pronto. She texted Toby quickly, telling him to call when he was finished exchanging pleasantries with the rest of the family.

She had to make sure he put all of her papers and newspaper articles in her file cabinet. Maybe pick up a few things. Hell, maybe she'd ask him to buy some orange juice or something to put in the refrigerator, just so it looked like she did more than sit and cry over unchangeable events after her release from the rehabilitation center.

Except, of course, after she'd gotten the news, all she did was cry. All she did was curse God and wish it wasn't true.

Part of her even wished it had happened to her.

Chelsea turned her shower on, letting her mind go crazy again. All she wanted was to move on from such a fucked-up past. Between Dean, rehab, Jeff, the WWE…NXT…Total Divas…she was exhausted. And as much as she wanted to come clean about everything she'd gone through, it wasn't necessarily her heartache to reveal. She'd been truthful about the drugs, and Jeff Hardy, rehab, even. But the missing link was Dean.

And as it looked right now, he was in serious denial. He was never going to take responsibility for his role in perhaps the worst tragedy she'd ever encountered.

But he should. She would've never gotten into the car if she wasn't going chasing after the love of her life.

The love of her life that had broken her heart, her trust, and stolen her future.

It was difficult to look past that and carry on with life normally. It only solidified Chelsea's belief that it didn't matter if you were a good person or not; you would be taken away from people who loved and cared about you at an inconvenient time.

She washed her hair now, slowly calming herself down. She began thinking of Ro again, and of AJ, Tamina, and Seth. At least she had those people with her now. And even though they were not any sort of replacements, they were there for her.

But how long until they weren't, either? She'd already lost Nattie as one of her best and truest friends, Nikki and Brie following her lead. It might be a matter of time until Chelsea Sweetly was once again at rock bottom, sitting in her studio apartment pouring over the same paperwork she'd scoured over minutes before.

She never wanted her life to be like that again.


End file.
